


An Exercise in Patience

by thepapercrow



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Canon-Typical Violence, Crimes & Criminals, Drowning, Enemies to Friends, First Aid, First Meetings, Gen, Horses, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25387390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepapercrow/pseuds/thepapercrow
Summary: After loss of five of the gang's horses in a robbery gone wrong, Arthur sets off on his own in search of some replacements. In the process he stumbles across Charles Smith, a ranch hand who is not too happy to catch Arthur attempting to run off with his own horse.Pre-Blackwater through arrival to Colter.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan & Charles Smith
Comments: 12
Kudos: 47





	1. Skyfield Ranch

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is my first time trying out creative writing after being addicted to this game for years and I just wrote something down in order to stay sane during the quarantine. Sorry for any mistakes, I've been forced to use mostly Microsoft Notepad. Also, the first chapter will have a good amount of horse death, so be prepared for that.

The sun was just starting to sink as Arthur rode into town. The dusty road that followed the length of the tired collection of timber structures was rocky, weeds beginning to pop up here and there. It was not the type of place anyone would think to stay in for more than a night- maybe not even that. But Arthur couldn't be bothered by weeds and dust, he needed a job and perhaps the low traffic of this town was just the place to lay low a while. His horse Poppy, clearly tired from the ride through the desert shook her head as Arthur slowed to a stop outside the mercantile shop. After setting her up at a cloudy water trough he headed in to search for something to eat. Food was food and Arthur wasn't above eating from a can.

"Howdy mister," said the old clerk from behind the counter

"Hey," Arthur replied. "Got anything other than corn?" Sure enough, the whole wall was full of canned corn with a sprinkling of other odd vegetables.

"What can I say mister, that's what grows 'round here so that's what we got. Should be some canned fish here somewhere."

A quick perusal of the back of the store revealed just a few cans of aged salmon, labels starting to disintegrate.

"Perhaps I'll stick to that corn" he said, piling a few cans into his arm as well as a small bag of beans. As he reached into his satchel with a free hand to find some money he heard a loud bang.

He whipped around, hand going to his hip. But instead of the expected rain of bullets and shouting lawmen he'd come to expect, three roughly dressed young men filed into the shop, laughing amongst themselves. The first man, large with greasy blond hair shoved his way to the counter.

"Got any booze this month, old man?"

The shopkeeper nodded a bit, barely concealing a scowl.

"Yeah, 'spose we do. Not much though, you boys cleared me out last week."

"Well, we'll clear you out again, we're the only ones in this whole goddamned town that actually get any real work done after all. What you do? Sit in the cool day after day, dust a can maybe?" The man's friends were rooting around the store, not doing much but it got their point across, the shop keeper was looking more and more nervous. "Don't have all day," the man continued.

The old merchant handed over a dark bottle- unlabeled and a bit murky.

"This all?"

"Yes sir, this week's been dry." Eyes narrowed; the blond stepped forward.

"You wouldn't mind if I take a quick look do ya?"

"Um, no. 'Spose not sir. But there's nothin' here but some old receipts and rags."

"We'll see," the man said, fumbling over the counter. Arthur hung back, pretending to focus on a barrel of work gloves. He wasn't about to get in the middle of this. Soon enough the young man emerged after a bit of shuffling with a second bottle of the liquor, pausing for a quick jab at the merchant’s nose. “What’s this then old man?”

When the blond man was content that there were just two bottles to be had, he finally seemed to notice Arthur in the corner.

"Hey there, whatcha' lookin' at back there?"

"Not much, just passing through this lovely town."

"That so?"

"Just about, figure they'll be work somewhere down the line. Not sure I'd get much work done in a dry town though, we've all got needs." Arthur gestured to the bottle. The man looked down then let out an amused huff.

"Work you say? What you do? Not sure shittin' on someone's town is the best way to get work there." Arthur shrugged.

"Not shittin' on nothing. Bit of this and that. Work with horses some but I'm not above some heavy labor if it pays." Arthur kept a blank look on his face, not threatening. Best to diffuse things before he takes them too far. The blond man looked back, a discerning gaze gliding over the scars on Arthur's face and forearms. The sudden glint in his eyes alerted Arthur that while he wasn't looking for a fight anymore, this brute of a man might not be finished with the conversation.

"How'd you like one?" One of the other men whipped his head towards the blond man.

"What ya saying man? We don't even know this guy-" he whispered, loudly enough Arthur could hear every word. The blond man whipped around with a glare to quiet him then turned to Arthur, face neutral again. The other two men just exchanged a look.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, not a complete refusal but not too eager either.

"Tending to the horses I mean. For my old man up at Skyfield Ranch. Some other tasks maybe if you prove as strong as you look."

"And you'd just give me a job. Just like that?" Arthur was stalling, thinking over the offer. This wasn’t a great town and this man seemed even less impressive, but he now had a total of $2.15 in his bag, hardly enough for one night in a lumpy bed.

"You’d have to prove yourself to my old man of course, let us see how you handle the horses but hey, we just lost one of our boys and this town don't get too many travelers."

Arthur considered the man's offer. He was holding his two bottles of stolen whisky as if he'd just pulled off a great heist and seemed to be trying his hardest not to look impatient.

"Sure, I'd like that mister-"

"Jones, Wilson Jones," he puffed up a big and juggled his bottles, freeing a hand he then extended. Arthur shook it with a slight smile. He felt the glare of the shopkeeper from his side but just offered a shrug. He had no intention of being in this town long, but perhaps some money could be made first. Or perhaps some horses.

"Arthur Callahan."

Wilson wandered over to a shelf and grabbed a couple of cans, tucking them into his pack while smirking at the shopkeeper and started regaling Arthur of all his conquests in town. Arthur was tuning it out as much as he could afford. After some more fruitless rummaging, Wilson sighed and cracked open both bottles of booze right in the store and handed one over. The other two men finally deigned to introduce themselves, now that their leader had broken the seals. Al and Marty, twins by the look of it, and cousins to Wilson. Arthur took the bottle, confused why this man was being so friendly to him- couldn't mean anything good. But it wasn't like Arthur had any real money on him and if it came down to it, he was confident he could drop the men. He nodded to Wilson and took a big swig of whisky. It was about as good at it looked but he wasn't about to alert Wilson that he had much nicer stock in his own satchel. Stuck in his head, he failed to notice a broad, dark man with long hair entering the door, and when Arthur shifted, his shoulder bumped into the larger man. He couldn't help the splash of alcohol that sloshed out of the bottle all over the man's shirt

"Ah, sorry mist-" he begun, bracing himself. The last thing he needed was to get into a fight after only a few minutes in town. And this man seemed a bit more threatening than the other group.

"Watch where you're going fool," Wilson shouted at the man Arthur had bumped into, who in turn just gave the group an unimpressed scowl. "You're lucky my friend here was willing to share at all." Arthur prepared for an all-out brawl.

He did need a job, but it was almost physically painful to take Wilson's side as the man continued berating the stranger. The man just looked between Arthur and the small group of men who all put their hands on their hips, apparently willing to gun the man down if needed. Said man seemed to rethink whatever escalation he was planning, then stalked off. Wilson turned with a smirk and strolled to the door, prompting the group to follow behind him after a few more heated words slung at the man. Arthur looked back at him to see he was still glaring intently, now at Arthur. He shrugged and turned to follow, two angry men behind him.

-

Unsurprisingly there was another, more comprehensive interview when Arthur arrived at Skyfield Ranch. The elder Mister Jones was a stern, weathered man with a bushy red mustache who immediately took it upon himself to interrogate Arthur for all he was worth- asking the expected questions about horses and saddles but also those about hunting and water currents and lastly about Arthur's past. Who was he, where'd he come from. These came easy to Arthur, he had dozens of stories he could go with, but he went with the usual. His name was Arthur Callahan and he was a simple farmer from out East, a family man who'd fallen on tough times and set out west to start anew. Whether Mister Jones bought the story or not, he didn't comment, quickly moving on to more subjects that were strictly too obscure for Arthur to even attempt to answer. Something about soil density and mineral buildup.

After what felt like hours of this, Mister Jones finally stepped forward and extended his right hand. They shook on it, Arthur was now a ranch hand at Skyfield Ranch. He'd be provided a small room, a place to stable his horse, and three meals a day on the condition that he was competent at the work and proved trustworthy. Arthur wasn't certain of that last condition himself. That would depend on his employers and how much wealth they had lying about to tempt him.

The blond man Wilson- so far Arthur's least favorite- showed Arthur to his room after a quick dinner of stew served by Mrs. Jones, a woman who matched the severity of her husband if not his weathered appearance. The house reflected this all too well- large, neat, and seemingly empty. For all the open space and high wooden ceilings, the furniture was sparse and simple. Arthur's room was similarly barren, a small cot, washbasin, and chest being the only furnishings. The small window was the only saving grace of the room, opening over rolling fields. In the distance lights of the next homestead lit up the night. Arthur settled in, unpacking his belongings and trying not to think to hard about the gang and how they were doing without him.

He opened his journal.

_This town is small and dusty and I'm already sick of it. Perhaps they'll be money to be had, but perhaps not. I'm not sure what the point of all this is to be honest. I'd be more helpful back with Dutch, he's the talker and plotter, him and Hosea. Hopefully I'll bring something good back to make up for Bill's "little" mistake. Down five horses has set up back a lot, especially when we need to move the whole gang. The Jones' seem to like me well enough so far, but in the process of getting this job, I may have made a couple enemies in town. Sounds about right._

-

Arthur soon discovered that while the people were mostly insufferable, the horses themselves were spirited and well maintained. Most took well to him immediately and Arthur made sure to give the rest a wide berth to let them interact with him on their own terms first. Oddly enough only about half of the horses seemed to be named, other hands often just calling them by their hair color or size.

His first day consisted mostly of listening to Mr. Jones ramble on about the ranch, it's noble history, the standards Arthur would need to keep. Arthur took it all in while giving the land a survey. The ranch proper was in a valley, dry but not without foliage- the odd cactus and succulent dotted the landscape to the west and pale grass stood a foot tall to the east. A scattering of trees ringed the western edge of the property and provided some measure of shade. Not a bad place for a ranch, but certainly not the most fruitful.

After a few days of careful surveillance by the other men, especially Mr. Jones, Arthur was deemed competent enough to at least handle the basics of horse care. Sometimes even more than that depending on how lazy Wilson was feeling. The man would often not even stumble into the stables until well past noon, only to find Arthur finished with both of their shares of the work. Arthur didn't complain too much, the better his reputation the easier it would be to make off with the family's riches. In the evenings he'd participate in a card game or two but avoided most of the other men otherwise as they were loud and annoying in a way Arthur didn't care for. Once they were good and passed out in the barn, he'd begin the real work. Nighttime was used for scoping the property, finding the best escape routes, the quietest gates leading to the paddock, which floorboards squeaked the most. Progress was slow and Arthur soon found himself almost hitting his third week at the ranch. Dutch would be getting antsy if he took too much time, especially after John's abrupt departure a while back.

One morning, Arthur was surprised to see two new mares with matted manes occupying the paddock.

"See we've got a couple new faces here," Arthur said to Wilson when he emerged from the barn.

"Guess so, a sale went through earlier." A sale taking place sometime in the night apparently, Arthur had been up since dawn. Wilson seemed guarded so Arthur didn’t push the issue and continued on with the feeding.

"Well they seem healthy enough, may as well get started on the manes."

"Yeah, I guess we'd better." That was that, no more words passed between the men regarding the horses and Arthur was internally cursing himself for not being more friendly and inquisitive towards these men. Hosea or Dutch would probably already been promoted to co-conspirators to whatever scheme was playing out here. From that morning on Arthur kept an eye on not just the property but also the men. They didn't seem to move much, usually just drinking, playing cards, and helping out with farm work. After another week of investigation, Arthur finally caught a scent.

From his place behind the firewood pile to the north of the house Arthur watched as Mr. Jones and another quieter farmhand named Leo darted out of the farmhouse and collected their mounts. Arthur waited a couple minutes before following behind them, but the open fields would make staying hidden difficult. After a couple minutes of tailing on foot Arthur gave up, there was no way he'd be able to follow them through grass, especially with the full moon illuminating the fields. He instead returned to his spot behind the firewood, took out his binoculars and settled in for the wait. About twenty minutes later the two men filed back over the hills, a canvas sack in tow.

Sure enough, the next morning there was a new piglet in among the rest.

-

Arthur was worried he'd been spotted over the next few days when Mr. Jones took to asking Arthur to drink in the evenings, sometimes with Leo, sometimes alone. Most of the topics were mundane but Arthur noticed a couple more pointed questions. Had he ever had trouble with outlaws, how was he in 'the art of showmanship'. Nothing damning though- for all the screening the man seemed to be doing he let nothing about any additional dealings past that of ranching slip. Arthur had half a mind to send for more folks over this, but something stopped him, he was here to steal some horses to supplement the gang's fragmented herd, not play games with shady ranchers.

Mr. Jones started telling Arthur when to expect more horses sometime after the whisky meets begun. Arthur would make sure saddles and food were prepared for the horses that would periodically be brought in at night. When Jones spoke to Arthur of an especially fruitful haul Arthur decided it was just about time to make his move. According to the older rancher, two new horses including a pure white Arabian were set to arrive the following day. Arthur half expected Mr. Jones to finally crack and ask Arthur along for the meet, but no such request was given. Mr. Jones left some time in the night and in the morning, a blindingly white Arabian was tethered in the barn.

-

A couple days later and Arthur was ready to run his plan. He had stowed the Arabian safely away in one of the stables dotting the farm, away from prying eyes and had made a mental list of the other horses he would be taking. He settled on five- he was just one man and even that number of horses might present a problem if spooked. When the group settled into the barn for their nightly card game Arthur upped the stakes, removing the bottle of moonshine he had come by some weeks back.

"What you boys say we play drink poker again tonight?" he asked, feigning mild interest but making sure to slosh the liquid in front of all of them. He had been playing with them over the last couple weeks but had been only using watered down whisky and beer the other days. The moonshine was reserved for tonight and Arthur had the feeling these men weren't quite built for the stuff. Most people weren't

"Course Callahan. How could we not be? 'Specially if we're waging real money again, think you've got some coins I could use." Arthur humored them and eventually the whole group of them were slouched over, some murmuring, others fully knocked out. It had taken longer than Arthur had hoped but there were still a couple hours of moonlight.

"Gotta piss," Arthur finally mumbled and mock staggered out of the main barn. Mr. and Mrs. Jones weren't knocked out like the rest, but Arthur wasn't too worried- they usually turned in early on weekends and Mrs. Jones was fighting a nasty cold. He first raided the vault hidden behind the barn that he had discovered weeks before in his nighttime skulks, a lockpick making easy work of the lock. Three sizable gold bars were revealed totaling a few hundred at least, once fenced. Arthur had considered doing another raid of the farmhouse itself, but with Mr. and Mrs. Jones or worse Leo potentially prowling around, he settled for just the gold bars and a few money clips he was able to pickpocket off the drunk men. Overall a much better take than expected, the original plan was just the horses.

Quickly he hurried to the stables and gathered the more valuable horses and tethered them together before jumping on his own horse Poppy. She was new and not the most well broken in, a reject forced on Arthur after the incident with the gang's horses. But she was his and he wasn't leaving her here if he could help it. Soon the party was making their way west, into the rugged desert. The property was massive and sprawling and with this many horses it could take a while to make it over the rough terrain. But this route had no direct sight from the house windows and offered the most tree coverage eventually, as well as being the direction of the gang, no back-tracking required.

Arthur gave himself a minute to think through the logistics of moving so many horses over the many miles to camp. Presumably, the law would be on his heels when Jones realized what had happened. A few more hours perhaps. Food shouldn't be an issue though, the largest of the stolen mustangs Brute had large bundles of hay strapped to his back and streams were plentiful once they hit the tree line. He was almost giddy with the thought of maybe claiming the Arabian as his own, if Dutch would even entertain someone riding the same type of horse as him. Arthur let an amused huff out at the thought of Dutch throwing a fit over matching horses.

A terrible smell and the low growling were the only warning Arthur got before it all fell apart. The brambles had concealed the gully stretching off to the side of Arthur and the wolf that burst out seemed half crazed, blood and spittle spotting its muzzle.

In his surprise Arthur failed to notice the gravel surrounding the gully until it was too late. One moment he was looking down at the rabid wolf and reaching for his sidearm while trying not to lose control of the tethers, and the next he was careening into the pit. Poppy let out a high-pitched cry as she crashed to into the gully and Arthur lost his grip on the tether through her panic. In turn the group fled to the south. Poppy herself was still flailing about in the gully, too deep and slanted to get a good grip with her hooves while Arthur was almost smashed against the side of the trench. He somehow managed to draw on the wolf above his head and got off a shot before it could strike him. The creature slumped over the ridge, falling alongside them. 

After a few moments of furious disbelief at how quickly his fortunes had turned, Arthur focused his attention on the panicked horse.

"You're okay girl. Let's get you out." After what seemed like hours of calming pats and encouragement Poppy had stilled. There was no getting this horse out without a team of men and probably a pulley. With his head in his hands Arthur watched the sun rise over the horizon, sending red rays of light through the grass. It was a beautiful sight but as the light grew thicker Arthur couldn't miss the tear he found across Poppy's ankle. The bite was not clean and the closer Arthur looked the more damage he saw. Somehow the wolf had bitten her in at least two places and scratched her with its claws. Worse was the angle of her other hind ankle. He had come looking for horses and had only managed on killing another. Arthur grabbed a bowl from his pack and poured most of the water from his waterskin into it, placing it in a small mound of piled dirt. After more comforting words she was able to drink a bit, still flighty but no longer panicked. He then emptied out his bag of all the sugar cubes, gave her some gentle pats to the muzzle, and sank a bullet in her skull. He couldn't help the tears as he climbed out of the trench and looked out over the plains. The herd was gone, and he was alone in enemy land with only a small pack of provisions and some stolen gold to his name.

-

Hours later and Arthur still wasn't to the end of the property. The sun was now out, though it was still early. Just as Arthur was beginning to wrap up his piss break, he heard a cry of a horse, much too deep to belong to any of the stolen herd. Sure enough, a large spotted horse just about pranced into him, startled by something.

"Hey boy," Arthur said, making to reach an arm towards the horse. "You're a good boy, come here, let me help you out a bit." After a tense back and forth and a bit of footwork Arthur found himself with his hand on the horses' haunch. "You're not so bad, let's get outta here." A few pats later, the large horse was under his spell and with a huff of laughter he slowly passed around the horse's front. He didn't recognize him from the herd but this was no wild horse. Even without a saddle or reigns the horse was calm enough around Arthur to imply domestication. He supposed the horse was his now.  
After a quick survey of the sloping landscape and tree line, Arthur heaved himself onto the horse's back, tensing as the horse settled beneath him. Without a saddle he sagged a bit into the horse and it took a few awkward movements to get situated comfortably, but the horse allowed it. This was his ticket out of here. He hesitated, his real goal was the other horses, but all of those were scattered to the wind. It couldn’t be helped; Arthur only had a few bullets left in his satchel and no amount of precision would help him beat the seven armed men he was sure to stumble across if he turned back now. The gold bars were heavy in his pocket and he needed a quick exit now, with or without the herd.

A gun was nocked.

"You've got my horse."

"Wha-" Arthur mumbled out, squeezing his thighs together to bring the horse forward while twisting around. Sure enough, a man sat on horseback, about twelve feet back, half hidden behind a boulder.

"My horse, I think you'd better step down from him. You've got nowhere to go, and I've got a clean shot." The man was familiar, the man Arthur had spilled his drink all over the other day. His voice was controlled but the safety was off, his finger firm on the trigger. He considered drawing on him, the man may be a good shot, but Arthur was better than most. Perhaps feigning to one side. Or maybe twisting behind the horse's head- surely the man wouldn't shoot through his own goddamned horse's head. But all in all, his chances of getting out unscathed were low and he had nothing more than his cattle revolver in drawing distance.

"What you pointin' that thing at? I just found 'em on my boss's land, no tags or nothin'. Didn't know he belonged to no one." Arthur stuck his hands up a bit, planning his next move.

"That so?" The man was rigid. "Like I said, get on down." Embarrassed, Arthur nearly stumbled when dismounting the beast, his foot seeking a nonexistent stirrup. He landed roughly on one knee, not feeling like much of a hardened criminal, oddly awkward in front of this man. He rose, shook the outermost layer of dust off and looked up at the him.

"Yeah, so would you put that gun down, I ain't gonna run off with him or nothin', I can barely reach him. Way too tall a horse to ride like that." He gestured to the lack of saddle. The man loosened his grip on the gun and lowered the muzzle a fraction but didn't put it down altogether, his brows still set in a scowl. Now would be his chance to draw on the man. Surely he'd come out ahead this time.

"Looked pretty set on riding him right out of here if I'm being blunt. Wouldn't be the first to try either."

"Well how was I 'spose to know this were your horse. I haven't been in this town a month and I sure as hell don't know who you are mister. Take your horse, I got places to be." Arthur couldn't afford to stay here for long, not with his empty water skin and the heavy gold bars weighing down his pocket. The man in blue didn't lower his gun.

"Snuck into the paddock did you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, the horse was just wanderin' around out here, frightnin' himself over some lizards."

"We saw you two nights ago, sneaking in and taking off. Don't know what you're playing at. You and your uncle too."

"Well I don't know what you mean, I got no uncles and I weren't sneaking through no paddocks. Sure this horse in pretty enough but I didn't steal him."

"You were planning to sell him? There's no way you could've kept him around here and gotten away unscathed."

"I mean if I didn't find his owner, sure. But here you are, assuming you're not a horse thief yourself." Arthur needed to get away, he'd been in the open for a couple hours at least, plenty of time for folks to notice his absence. He took a step away from the horse, daring the man to make a move- he hadn't budged yet, maybe he truly didn't want bloodshed.

The sound of hoofbeats suddenly filled Arthur's ears.

"Fuck" Arthur startled. The other man whipped his head up and cursed to himself in turn, then whistled to the brown spotted horse which quickly fell into line, trotting over to the man. Just as the managed to tug his own horse away a shot rang out, blood splatter jumping through the air, a wailing sound emerging from the now seizing horse. The man tried to calm him and press into the wound dotting his neck, but the beast fell to his front legs, flinging the man over his neck and into the dust. 

He whipped his own pistol out and hurried for cover behind the boulder. He noticed the sniper on the hilltop just as he was readying another shot. He gestured to the hill and attempted to pull on the dark man’s leg. Coming out of a momentary stupor the man crawled over to him, hunching to fully cover himself from the bullet fire. No more shots followed, the spotted horse startling but unscathed by further bullets as he skittered out of range.

The man immediately grabbed Arthur by the collar and forced his head roughly into the stone repeatedly until Arthur's vision was blurry and he felt wetness slipping down his neck. He grabbed onto the man’s arm, attempting to push him off but the grip was like a vice. With a grunt he let himself go boneless in the man's grasp. What a way to go, attacked from multiple directions over a few dollars.

"Stop now, I don't know. I ain't with them, I just-" he trailed off, the man had let him sag to the ground, his attention now set on the horizon where the hoofbeats had become louder. The grip returned.

"How many? Tell me now, or you're dead."

"I don't know. Seven at most, half of which can't shoot none to save their lives." He was pushed back into the rock, less hard this time. He then found himself heaved up, a thick arm snaking across his chest. The gun barrel dug into his skull and he was half lifted, half dragged out from cover, held out in the direction of the sniper. His breathing quickened, his feet hardly touching the ground.

"You're all going to put your guns down and turn right around this instant or your friend’s dead." The man yelled. Now that Arthur had a good view, he could see the Mr. Jones, Wilson, Al, and Monty- all atop their horses, guns in hand.

"Funny to think we care about that thief. Kill him it pleases you, then empty your pockets boy- you're on our land and we're in our legal right to execute you where you stand." A flash from the side caught Arthur's eye and before he even recognized what he was doing he was twisting in the man's grasp, to draw the other man's sidearm. The vice of an arm was loosened with a gasp and Arthur was able to get a shot off. Straight into the skull of Leo, the man about six feet to the side of them, a sawed off falling from a position behind Arthur's captor's head. After that, the rest of the men were whipped into a frenzy and another shot rang out from the distance.

Arthur swore as a familiar burn ran through his leg and slumped forward, the only thing keeping him upright was the man's arm, still half holding him. More shots rang out from the group on horseback, but Arthur once again felt himself being hauled backwards. He felt the vibrations from his captor’s weapon as he returned his own shots. Even through his haze he leveled the stolen gun, and fired three rapid shots into the crowd, his usual precision forgotten for a messy barrage of bullets. Another horse screeched out and tumbled down, taking the rider down hard beneath it. The chaos seemed to fade in and out and he could do little to keep his vision clear. With what was left of his brain, Arthur realized he was tucked securely behind the boulder again, hit coat stripped off and cushioned behind his head.

-

When Arthur came to, he was still hunched back behind the boulder, but the air seemed clear and it was quiet. He glanced to the side and the large man was still there, situated next to him, back to the boulder.

"They all dead?"

"What do you think?"

"Yeah, I'd say so. Awfully quiet 'round here."

Arthur tried to get to his feet but even getting to his knees was proving difficult. The other man did nothing to stop him, though Arthur did notice that all the firearms and even his serrated knife were absent. The spotted horse stood off to the side grazing, seemingly content now that the violence had waned. He tried to subtly shift to check his pockets. Sure enough, a small lump still sat against his thigh- all the bars where there. He felt eyes on him and flushed at his actions. Arthur absently wondered it the man had rifled through all his pockets when he was passed out.

"Everything intact?" he asked Arthur.

"Yep, I'm good. Out of a job though, the whole Jones family is set out to rot in the sun over there I'd reckon." The other man grimaced. "What about the sniper? He still out there?" The man shook his head.

"No."

"Um, well that's good I 'spose," he trailed off. "Arthur." He struggled to extend his hand.

"Charles," the man replied, but made no move to take Arthur's hand. Arthur couldn't blame him, blood caked as it was. His pant leg also seemed in bad condition, still wet with blood. Probably just a graze from the stinging, but it was messy.

"Nice to meet you. I got shot in the leg a bit huh?" Charles nodded, looking unscathed himself.

"Didn't look too bad but given all the dirt you've been rolling around in you may be set for an infection there."

Sure enough, Arthur was caked in dust, muddy around the graze. His last pair of blue pants looked closer to black and were ripped in places.

"Well who's fault is that, seem to remember gettin' dragged 'round like a rag doll not too long ago."

"I-"

"Don't worry 'bout it none, I must have looked guilty and hey, may have even ridden your horse off if you hadn't been there to take me down. Was pretty desperate to get away from those assholes." He gestured to the side and paused as he saw Charles’s dead mare, sprawled out before him. "Sorry 'bout your other horse though Mister- Charles was it? Didn't know they were on my trail like that." Visions of Poppy dotted his mind and Arthur just managed stopping the vomit that welled in his stomach.

"Good horse, didn't deserve to be gunned down over some squabble. Can't say I wasn't expecting a fight though. Was tracking a stolen horse onto the Jones’ farm. Figured I could go about it more stealthily, perhaps end things in a less dramatic way."

"You, stealthy? Okay then..." Charles shifted and for a second Arthur was sure he had earned himself another bash to the head, but Charles just sighed and pulled himself to his feet. Then, to Arthur's surprise he turned to him and offered a hand.

"Can you stand?"

"Thought I was too filthy for you to touch me. But sure, or we'll see soon enough." Arthur said, reaching for Charles's hand with one of his own while pushing off the rock wall with his other. As he staggered up and forward he spared a glance at the carnage before them. All five men lay in various states, odd bones sticking out, eye sockets open to the air. Two of the other men's horses lay among the mess, one with a bullet hole cleanly through it's skull, the other littered with bullet holes but ultimately taken down by a clean slit across the length of it's throat. "Shit. I don't know about you, but I sure don't want to be around here when the law shows up. We look awfully guilty and if there's one thing I've gathered in this shithole town- no offense- it's that the sheriff is deep within Jones’s pocket." Charles looked at him thoughtfully for the first time.

"I guess not. Was finally in a decent paying job for the first time in a year before you brought these boys over this way." Arthur refused to feel guilty about what he may or may not have brought down on Charles- his head and thigh were still aching something fierce and he wanted nothing to collapse on his cot.

"And it wouldn't have been a problem if you had just snuck in and slit all their throats all sneakily?" This earned him yet another glare. "So what are you going to do now?"

"What's it to you?" Despite the hard words, Charles didn't seem especially wound up, just contemplative. As if he really had some sort of passing interest in what Arthur was planning. Arthur wasn't quite sure the answer, but he did know he currently had no ticket out of the desert, no live horse except Charles's in sight.

"I'm just saying if we're both 'bout to hit the road, it's really safer to travel in groups, or pairs in this case. And figuring you didn't just leave me alive and bundled up behind that rock to kill now that I'm awake enough to feel it..." Arthur was sure his face was bright red at this point, asking for help like this. But he was very thirsty and would do just about anything to get out of this place.

"Hmm, asking me to give you another chance to steal Taima here?" Arthur swallowed.

"Guess so, yeah."

Charles easily mounted the horse and turned around, once again extending an arm.

"Come on then."


	2. Slow Travels

"Hey Charles, will any men be coming after you?" Arthur was precariously situated behind Charles on Taima, a saddle retrieved from the massacre. Arthur gripped the edge of the saddle to stay upright but they were both large men and he couldn't see this setup being comfortable for any of them, long term.

"Doubt it, they may be curious where I went off to, but I doubt they'd care enough to follow, especially after the massacre back there. If anyone's coming, it'll be your men. Seemed awfully desperate to get after you." Arthur stiffened. Charles must know about the gold lining his pockets. That would explain how agreeable he was, allowing Arthur to tag along with him after beating him near unconscious. Odd that he didn't just empty his pockets while he was out or put a bullet in him along with the rest.

"I 'spose."

-

They had been riding for a few hours with no signs of trouble before they spoke again, both easing into the silence. Arthur's legs were extremely uncomfortable from holding himself so far back on the horse. Charles seemed alright with their current proximity, but Arthur had no reason to trust him and even less willingness to embarrass himself by getting to comfortable against a stranger. Charles led Taima in an arch around town to avoid any passing riders.

Their first real break took the form of hunching down in a small scattering of shade and trying to shake off some of the road dust while Taima had her fill from a nearby creek. Not that there was much point, Arthur hadn't felt so disgusting in months, caked in all matter of filth, wounds untreated. He itched to tear his jeans off to get a better look but settled to pry back the fabric around the puncture and attempt to peer through.

"I know you've got my guns all hung up on your horse there. Think it'd be good to have one back in case the law shows up or somethin'. Seems like a wasted opportunity, I'm a pretty decent shot."

"Maybe that's what I'm worried about."

"What? I'm not gonna shoot you."

"And why not?" Arthur balked a moment. "From what I've gathered you've stolen a small fortune from your own employers before running off into the desert, heavily armed."

"Well if you're just waiting for me to take my chance and jump you, why the hell am I still here?" Arthur wasn't about to admit he had been cycling through a few scenarios of doing just that over the last few hours. He wouldn't feel too great about taking this man down, but he'd done worse.

Charles' gaze rested on Arthur's bleeding leg.

"I don't know. Seems wrong to 'take out' an injured man," Charles gestured to Arthur "and it seemed wrong to just leave you out in the desert." He finished with a shrug.

"A charity case then?" Arthur couldn't feel too bitter. Satisfied but a little confused, Arthur finally wandered over to the creek and began washing the blood out of his hair. The damage didn't seem too bad despite the tenderness and cascade of bloody flakes coming loose in the water. Something soft bounced off Arthur's knee. A roll of gauze tied together into a bundle and a small pouch. Sure enough, the pouch was filled with thin thread, some needles, and some sort of paste. Arthur had known very few strangers who've turned the tables as quickly as Charles had and still wasn't sure if this change should trigger caution or goodwill. It was a simple offering, no more than any proper outdoorsman should have but much more than he had himself. Perhaps he had some gauze, perhaps not- his departure from the gang had been hurried and much to his embarrassment he had even forgotten some of the basics.

"Thanks." With a practiced hand Arthur threaded the needle and managed to contort himself to the side, angling his face with his now bare thigh. A few minutes of cursing and a quarter of a bottle of whisky later, Arthur found himself stitched up and began doing the same for his mangled pants, same needle and thread; it wasn't like his pants weren't already covered in blood. His head was even simpler given that all the small wounds seemed superficial despite how much they had bled. After some thought and a few minutes of air drying he decided against wrapping his head and popped his hat back on.

"We ready?" Arthur asked and Charles nodded.

"Yeah, I think we're a few miles out from the nearest town but perhaps we should stay clear."

"You can lay low outside town and I'll sneak in, grab a horse maybe." Arthur almost stumbled when Charles let out a loud laugh. "What? I'm serious, you can't want me to keep..." he trailed off, Charles was still chuckling to himself and shaking his head.

"Nothing, nothing. If you think that's a good idea it might be easier on Taima. It's just, everything you say makes you seem more guilty of horse thievery." Charles didn't seem too critical despite the words- surprisingly relaxed after everything that happened. Especially telling was Arthur's position next to Taima, a good twelve feet back from Charles. He was still unarmed though; any suspicious movement would surely get him filled with lead.

"If ya ain't too put off by my ideas let's hit the road. Surely we've been here long enough." Charles nodded to him and Arthur made a point of waiting for Charles to approach before reaching out to Taima himself.

-

The sun had begun to set as Arthur raced out of Berrysberg on a spirited mare. It seemed likely even the buildings themselves were deep in drink and one drunken man had even stumbled over to Arthur to wish him a wonderful day as Arthur snatched the young horse. Hopefully whoever she belonged to wouldn't even discover the absence till the next morning's recovery. Even so, Arthur tore through the fields towards the meet up point Charles agreed to. There was no real reason to believe Charles would keep his word- they hardly knew each other and had made no formal plans past getting the hell away from Skyfield Ranch. Even so, Arthur hoped Charles would stick around. There was something grounding about the man, especially with Arthur still feeling woozy from the head wounds. There had been multiple times he had just about nodded off on the back of Taima due to the heat only to be grabbed and propped upright again.

To his surprise, Charles emerged from the brush as Arthur skidded into the clearing.

"What ya think of her?" asked Arthur, a bit smugly and he hopped off. Charles circled around her and nodded.

"Not bad. But let's not linger. You didn't shoot up that town or anything did you?"

"Course not, I'm a professional." Charles snorted and mounted Taima.

"Let's go."

-

The near full moon provided ample light, even for the more acrobatic maneuvers the horses were forced into. The forest was dense and rocky but perfect for disappearing and finally, after hours of this bumpy treatment the men decided to call it a night. Arthur's leg was beyond sore at this point and his head throbbed. He felt the ridiculous urge to kiss the ground as he stumbled off the black Kentucky Saddler onto the grassy ground of the clearing. Charles looked almost equally relieved as he dismounted beside Arthur and started to unpack his bag. Neither had a tent on them but after a bit of coordination and stumbling about they were able to fashion a simple camp- a fire pit surrounded by logs and thin bedrolls. Or in Charles case, his coat. Said man slipped away, only to return with two rabbits.

"That was fast." Arthur said, the first words to break the silence in a good couple of hours.

"Was hungry, it's pretty motivating I've found." Arthur could agree with the sentiment, but he doubted he could have brought bad two intact rabbits in just over fifteen minutes. Charles didn't need to know that though.

"Here, I'll help you cook those." Charles looked at him considering and for a terrible few seconds Arthur thought perhaps he’d misunderstood, and Charles expected him to find his own food, but then Charles handed them over and all but collapsed on his coat. After a quick roast over the fire with some dried oregano from his pack, the rabbits were done and the two men made quick work of them. Arthur pulled out his half full bottle of whisky and took a hearty drink before offering the bottle to the other man. After a few seconds of hesitation, Charles took the bottle and took a swig of his own. A few more drinks in, Arthur begun to feel awfully content. At this point he was fairly certain Charles wasn't about to stab him in the gut and even should he leave, Arthur was safely tucked away in the forest with little chance of detection.

Charles quietly cleared his throat and Arthur turned his attention to the man. He looked a bit tipsy but surely less than himself.

"So Charles, I think we may have started this conversation but what you thinkin'? Got any plans now? I am sorry by the way, 'bout all that business. Least I didn't see any witnesses since we took care of the- you could probably even go back if you’re so inclined."

"Hmm, I'm honestly not sure but I don't think going back there would be such a great idea for me."

"What you mean?"

"Well my employer has had issues with the Jones family in the past and I don’t want the law looking too hard, I was there after all. Half the town is already on edge around me and this would give them the perfect opportunity to get rid of me for good. These parts don't take to kindly to people like me- Black and Indian, the perfect target." He looked tired as he trailed off.

"But they got no proof, surely they'd need something linkin' you to all that business," Arthur said.

"Perhaps. I don't want to take that risk though, it’s not always as simple as that."

"I'm awfully sorry you know, 'bout that. And dragging you into all that mess."

"It is what it is," Charles still looked a bit glum but continued on, "probably wouldn't have stuck around anyway. I prefer to stay a bit further out from the towns usually- small town drama can get a bit out of hand, though it seems like wherever you go you've gotta look over your back. But to answer your earlier question, I don't really know." Arthur's heart was beating quickly, undecided on how to proceed, on what to say.

"Do you want to, maybe come with me?" Silence filled the clearing. "I'm running with a group of folks. Pretty decent I'd say but I guess I would... I just mean, you'd be welcome there." Arthur was not in fact, sure Charles would be welcome, but the words were already out- he'd have to follow through and hope Dutch was in a generous mood. Arthur had known this man for less than a day and he was already offering him a spot in the gang, Dutch would have words about that, regardless of his judgement of Charles himself. For the first time since their violent meeting Charles looked truly taken aback.

"Oh, that's. Thanks, but what line of business are you folks in?" The alcohol was making Arthur almost giddy and he hurried to take another large gulp.

"Oh you know, we steal stuff. Like horses...." Arthur couldn't keep the grin off his face, only spreading wider as Charles frowned back. Somehow he suppressed the burst of laughter that threatened to bubble up, he truly was a fool. Charles didn't look surprised but eventually hummed considering. "You don't have to. Obviously. But the folks ain't too bad- we don't just kill people for the sake of it, our leader is more thoughtful than most. Always coming up with some new plan. And the women are nice too if that's a good encouragement. Oh but they definitely won't just sleep with just anyone, so don't think I’m promising that. But Til- some of them will most likely play some dominos with you if you ask. Maybe..." Arthur was thinking it was just about time for bed now that he'd completely embarrassed himself. "You're just strong is all, the gang could use someone like you."

They stared at each other for what seemed like forever and Arthur was feeling another laugh coming on.

"Yeah okay, I'll come with you."

"You'll- really?"

"I mean no promises, but it couldn't hurt to see. Not that I have anywhere else to go..."

"Oh, good. I'm glad." Arthur had no idea how to respond to such an easy agreement, he wasn't Hosea for god's sake. "I think I'll turn in now." Arthur just about launched himself off the log, then immediately staggered to the side as right leg screamed in pain. Charles was on his feet to stabilize him before he could topple over. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Arthur walked towards his bedroll, ignoring Charles completely as he settled in for the night. In the distance he heard Charles settling down on top of one of the logs and popping the cork into the mostly empty bottle.

-

Arthur woke up to light streaming into his eyes through the spindly branches above him. The day was warming up already, the smell of coffee wafting over him and after a little struggling Arthur sat himself up to survey the camp.

"Morning," Charles said easily. "Coffee?"

"Sure, thanks." Arthur made his way over to the fire and retrieved his cup. "Say Charles, about last night."

"Is my invitation revoked?" Charles didn't sound bitter, just curious.

"What? Course not. Weren't sure if you'd still wanna come along but I was serious, we need good men."

"Good. How far out are we?"

"I don't know, a day or so. Depends how hard we ride but I don't see no reason to hurry it."

Soon they found themselves on the road again. The trees finally started to thin out, but the odd rock pile or root encouraged them to take their time. It was a nice day all things considered, not the least because Arthur hadn't caught even the glimpse of another human- only the odd rabbit or bird. Arthur wasn't as bad off as he expected but his slight hangover did no wonders for his already sore head. Luckily neither one of them felt the need to talk much and Arthur was able to float through most of the day- only answering the occasional question regarding directions. He was surprised how peaceful it all was, usually riding with others wore him out, the constant need for conversation grating on his nerves.

When they stopped for the next night Arthur took the first watch while Charles got some sleep. He wasn't sure what he was going to say to Dutch and had been thinking on different options for about an hour. If Dutch said no, Arthur wasn't sure what he'd do, surely it wouldn't be good to have a stranger nearby to camp. Part of Arthur wanted to slip away now to speak with Dutch before returning but they were more in the open tonight and he wasn't willing to just leave Charles to fend for himself while unconscious. Conflicted, he settled down at the base of a tree, his returned shotgun in hand.

-

"So before I bring you to the camp I better go in there alone and have a word with our leader, a stranger wandering into camp might make some of the boy's hackles go up."

"Sure, I'll just find somewhere to wait. How long do you think it'll take?"

"Oh I don't know, I'll try and hurry back." Arthur didn't want to alert Charles to just how close they were to camp- about twenty minutes out. The camp had taken refuge in a sprawling cave below a waterfall to the west, a very well hidden if a bit murky spot. With a final nod to Charles he headed out.

-

"Who's there?"

"It's just me Bill, Dutch and Hosea around?"

"Sure, why?"

"Need to talk to 'em." Arthur hurried into the cave entrance and veered right at the first fork, left at the second fork and scrambled over the rock barricade they had positioned to hide the entrance to the clearing. Once inside, he scanned the clearing. Light filtered through the open top of the cave into the camp below, casting shadows from wagons into the main living space. The camp was surprisingly empty, most of the folk off doing who knows what.

"Dutch," Arthur began as he approached the open tent "need to talk to you 'bout something." Dutch looked up, alert.

"What's wrong Arthur?" Arthur entered the tent and settled on a stool.

"Don't worry Dutch, nothing's wrong. I just wanted to ask you something."

"Okay, spit it out. You're looking shifty."

"Well I met someone who I think may be a good fit for the gang." Dutch looked surprised, usually him and Hosea were the ones collecting the misfits that filled the camp.

"Well okay son, who is this person? Where are they from? We can't just welcome any odd individual into our little family."

"I know, I know. I didn't bring him here or nothin'. I just think he'd be a good fit. He saved my life and helped me take down a whole crew gunning for me."

"And why'd he do that?" Arthur glared at the ground till Dutch continued. "It's not that I don't trust your judgement, I've just got to know his motives here."

"Well I don't reckon he's got too many motives Dutch. Sounds like he's just got nowhere to go."

"Desperate is dangerous."

"I sure as hell was desperate when you and Hosea pulled me off that street."

"Yeah and you were dangerous too. Just smaller and hungry enough to not put up too much of a fight" Dutch said with a chuckle. "I'll meet this man if you really think he's a good fit. But not here. And no guarantees. How long have you known him?" Arthur didn't want to answer Dutch.

"Few days."

"Hmm."

"Just talk to him, I think you'll like him." Hopefully.

"Okay son, let me talk to Hosea first and then we'll set something up. You sure he's not law?" Arthur scoffed. "I'm serious son, they have been known for sending people out as moles, last thing we need is someone joining up with us only to rat us out."

"Nah Dutch, I think he's fine."

-

The meeting was set at a rundown saloon in a Ambarino settlement that could hardly be considered a town. The settlement wasn't too far from camp but gave the whole meeting a more official tone. Most of the meetings went down similarly, a small town with some ale and the threat of the public's justice should things get too rowdy.

Arthur had stopped by Charles hiding place to tell him the news then headed out himself- Arthur would head to town himself, but didn't want to be seen riding in with Charles. From now on, how things played out were up to Dutch, and perhaps Hosea if he decided to come along. Arthur settled down at the back of the bar after ordering a beer and waited for Charles, nodding and pointing him towards Dutch when he arrived. Charles nodded back and walked over to a lonely table near the back of the saloon.

Arthur couldn't hear much from this distance and could only hope Charles knew what to say. Soon it became apparent that Arthur had nothing to worry about, Dutch was laughing and clapping Charles on the shoulder like an old friend. Arthur could see his stance was a bit rigid, his grin a bit too wide, but it was nothing to worry about, just Dutch playing his games and measuring up how Charles dealt with flattery. But at least Charles had impressed him enough to get to that stage. Arthur ordered another beer and tried to not throw it back too quickly, but he was tired and the thought of a bit more beer and a warm bed was getting more and more tempting. Just as he submitted fully to the fantasy of getting actual sleep, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned back to see Dutch, grin on his face.

"You didn't tell me how strong he was." Arthur was pretty sure that would have been just the thing he would’ve said but stayed quiet, he didn't remember exactly what he'd told Dutch. "And he uses a bow, could be good for our more nocturnal pursuits. I think this could really work, Charles Smith, a fine recruit if I ever found one. The stories he told." Arthur was taken by surprise by his own curiosity. Charles had not only told Dutch his surname so easily but also recounted many stories for Dutch? The same silent travel companion? In some ways it was understandable- Dutch was more impressive an audience with his bold clothing and charisma but also, Charles hadn’t opened up much to Arthur in their days of traveling.

"So I take it he's in?" Arthur kept his face blank, waiting for instructions. They usually played this the same way; a warm, dramatic welcome from Dutch followed by a more practical one by Hosea and finished by Arthur showing up and saying something vaguely threatening to test their metal. But considering he'd already met Charles and failed completely to do anything close to threatening him, Arthur figured this entry would be less than routine.

"Yeah, like I said- I think an individual like Mr. Smith is just what this gang needs. And given that you've already run a job with him I think it would be best to introduce him to the group without all the usual rituals." Charles was still sitting back at the table, sneaking the occasional glance over at Arthur, who gave a subtle thumbs up behind Dutch's back. "Still might be a good idea to blindfold him though, just in case."

Arthur glared at his drink, "you can't be serious Dutch. I thought the whole idea was he was pre-initiated?"

"I was kidding Arthur, lighten up. We'll go collect our new man and head back to camp." Arthur trailed behind Dutch with a sigh.

-

Although it was just an introduction, the camp quickly grew loud as the beer was broken out. It was truly a bit different than most people's first days, Dutch playing up the story of how Charles and Arthur met, downplaying any tensions between the two men in favor of bragging of Charles's bravery and his daring rescue of Arthur. It made sense, Dutch was clearly trying to endear the crew to Charles but Arthur was feeling very embarrassed by the whole process and if Charles glances were anything to go by, he was also feeling a bit out of sorts. Arthur hadn't bothered to get any beer but grabbed some stew and wandered over to where Charles was sitting- on a bench next to Javier and Merry-Beth.

Taking a seat next to Charles Arthur began, "quite the storyteller ain't he Charles? That sure was a close call, when that rancher headbutted you on that cliff side. Glad you were there so I didn't go plunging off the side. Or when the hornets attacked, that was close too. Wonder how long till Dutch gets to that part."

Charles looked embarrassed by still let out a chuckle, Javier just looked confused.

"Yeah Arthur, why'd you let a rancher headbutt you off a cliff?"

"Not quite off the cliff," he said, gesturing to Charles.

"Well I've got to say my friend, you certainly get into weird adventures whenever you go out alone. It's like the walrus incident all over again, you should really stay away from cliffs."

Mary-Beth cut in, "oh come on Javier, Arthur was just trying to help the poor thing. It's not his fault he tripped." She tried to keep a straight face but couldn't help the cackle as Karen sat down next to her with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, are we telling the Walrus story?" Karen asked. After Mary-Beth affirmed that they were in fact telling the walrus story, Karen proceeded to fill in Charles about just how Arthur had managed to fall off a cliff in devastating detail, Mary-Beth smiling almost apologetically at Arthur. Soon the stories took a turn and Javier was the focus on the mockery, seemingly nobody was safe around those two, especially Karen. He didn't seem too broken up though, making sure to add his own flare.

-

As the night winded down and the last of the gang members filing off to their beds, Arthur turned to Charles.

"What in hell did you tell Dutch over in that saloon?" Arthur asked with a laugh. "I'll be pretty wounded if you actually told him any of that!"

Charles considered him a moment before saying, "I told him I hit you if that's what you're asking." The tone turned sober. "I didn't tell him everything, but he knows our meeting wasn't exactly friendly. He did ask me for permission to embellish, though I didn't realize the extent."

Arthur felt the need to defend Dutch and said, "Dutch may be a bit wild on the story tellin' but he's got good intentions, probably figured I could afford to be taken down a peg, considering how long I've been with this crew, that son of a bitch. But don't worry, everyone can tell he's kinda jokin' round with it and if they question you, just tell 'em to back off."

"Appreciate it Arthur, but shouldn't you be a bit mad about it being downplayed? I'd probably do it all over again to a stranger snatching up Taima but I am sorry about your head. I've seen you, it's causing you problems still, right?"

"Oh well, a bit I guess but not as bad as my leg. I never was mad though- we was enemies at that point. I'd drenched you in muddy booze and jumped on your horse. Don't even think on it." Arthur rose from his spot on the bench without giving Charles a chance to respond, instead yawning loudly and stretching. "You can pick a spot to sleep, Susan pulled out a spare bedroll for you somewhere. My advice would be to stay away from Uncle though, or you'll never get to sleep."

Charles looked up at Arthur considering for a moment before settling on saying, "okay Arthur, thanks."

Arthur nodded back and headed for his own wagon after pointing to the bundle Susan had left at one of the tables. As he rooted threw his chest for a clean shirt, he saw Charles, settling down a little ways off on his own and beginning to unpack his bag. That had all gone surprisingly smoothly.


	3. Honest Work?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real excuse for this chapter other than I loved the missions with Hosea playing his schemes on people and Arthur/Fenton trying to pretend he wasn't into it too. I wanted something a little more lighthearted before the real shit hits the fan.

It was apparent over the next few weeks that Charles was going to be a good addition to the party. He had made a point to learn all about different camp responsibilities, and while he wasn't trusted with any of the more sensitive jobs or watch duty, he had taken well to all the other tasks. He had all but taken over the wood cutting and hunting and Pearson was thrilled about the wave of meat that appeared on his table and even more about how gracious the man was of his cooking. Arthur personally thought Charles could have used his new standing to influence a new sense of motivation in Pearson, but maybe that was just bitterness talking- he'd been eating Pearson's cooking for years in silent anguish. Or near silent at least.

Arthur himself was friendly to the man and explained some camp rules but he also made a point to not hang around too much. In the long run, that type of behavior would do no favors to Charles, who would be seen more as his man than Dutch's. Kind of like Jenny. Lenny had hung around her constantly since her arrival and other gang members were quick to label her as ‘Lenny’s girl,’ much to her embarrassment. Charles didn't seem too upset about it and got along well with most of the gang, especially the women. No surprise there, Arthur had to admit he was a handsome man, more patient and warmer than many of the others despite his quiet demeanor. Arthur even stumbled across him, Tilly, and Mary-Beth laughing away at something Mary-Beth had scrawled in her journal, but no amount of prying gave Arthur any insight into what was so funny. He could tell that the gang was waiting for something though, some exhibition of Charles's strength past that of Dutch's tales. They all had a story or two about when they finally earned the respect of the camp; Javier, when he led a pack of lawmen off the group and triggered a turf war between two sheriff divisions in Beaver valley; Karen, when she was able act her way into Mister William Foster's private club to secure all of the late Ms. Foster's jewelry in one fell swoop, and so on- the stories the gang had amassed were endless at this point. They all had their own testaments to strength, and Charles was next in line.

Arthur occupied his time as usual, faded in and out of camp- burglarizing one night and playing shady back alley poker games the next. Money was alright and he still wasn't over the glowing praise Dutch had heaped onto him over the gold bars- they had been able to fence them for well over Arthur's estimate. Dutch not being aware about all the horses Arthur let slide through his hands also helped, the man had apparently thought Arthur had just been taking a vacation up in the hills over those three weeks. Perhaps Arthur should have been offended by that, but all he could focus on was Dutch patting him on the back and earnestly thanking him for bringing not only a new man, but also a small fortune. The lack of good horses weighed on Arthur's mind though. Everyone else seemed to have forgotten in their fixation on Charles Smith and whatever amazing feat the man was working up to. But as they waited, their bellies were always full of food and nobody needed for firewood.

Arthur spotted Hosea trotting over to him as he lounged in front of his wagon deep in his thoughts, "Arthur, I need you for something." Hosea skidded to a halt, looking almost giddy.

"What you need Hosea, I was just plannin' on heading out."

"Well that can wait Arthur, I've got something better." Arthur audibly sighed and made a point of packing his journal away in his bag before finally meeting eyes with Hosea. "Oh come on Arthur, I know you'll love this one- we haven't had an opportunity like this in months."

"Months you say, this ought to be good," Arthur said, trying not to grin at the goofy smile pasted on the other man's face. "Hopefully I won't need to shave my head this time, that was a real nightmare."

"Oh nothing like that Arthur, though the mutton chops were a sight to see. This one will require much less preparation from you. I'd say a good pair of overalls and work boots will do the trick."

Arthur pretended to consider a few moments. "Overalls you say? I'd have to go into town to find something like that, not my usual style."

"Well you did say you were about to head out. Job shouldn't be too hard though, I just need another poor soul to join you in your new job- wall paper installation."

"Wall paper installation Hosea? I don't know nothin' 'bout that."

"Well yeah, I suppose that's a small hiccup, but surely it can't be too hard and you'll only need to do it a day or so. Here, follow me." Hosea turned on his heels and took off towards one of the central tables. Arthur followed behind and settled on a barrel, some hesitance in the face of Hosea's glee. Hosea grabbed a bag from the base of his own barrel and slapped it onto the table. After a bit of rooting around and the odd curse Hosea retrieved what he was looking for, an ugly roll of yellowing paper studded with pink roses. "This Arthur, will be your training materials." Arthur took the offered roll, uncoiling it to get a better look.

"What do I do with it?"

"Well I figured you could practice on your wagon, or even the rock floor back near the falls. All you've got to do is learn to lay it flat and push the air bubbles out," Hosea said, pulling a small tub out and handing it over. "This is the glue you need. I don't even know if this little exercise is necessary, but it might be best to just get a taste now, before your positioned in front a hoard of strangers, introduced as my professional associate."

Arthur unscrewed the cap and portioned out a small dollop of glue before flinging it to the ground between their barrels. A few minutes later yielded a small patch of yellow paper, flush to the ground. "That good?" he asked, presenting his work to Hosea.

After a quick bout of laughter Hosea looked up at him and said, "Yeah, that should do it Arthur, good to know you're a natural." Arthur just sighed then fixed Hosea with a look. "Okay okay, I'll fill you in about the job. Just had to make sure you were the man for the job-"

Arthur scoffed, "who else would subject themselves to this Hosea?".

"Very good point indeed Arthur. Charles! Come over here would you?" Charles had was wandering by with his arms full of firewood, making the mistake of sneaking a look at the mess of paper between the two other men.

"Yeah, you need me?" Charles answered, dropping his bundle in a neat snack at his feet.

"Arthur and I were just going over the plans for a job here and I think you're just the man to help us," Hosea said, all but steering Charles onto the remaining barrel.

"Surely, we are the two biggest fools you could catch Hosea. You gonna to tell us what this is all about?" Arthur said, giving Charles an apologetic look.

"Patience Arthur, I was just waiting till we had the whole team together. So in short, I've stumbled across the owners of a pretty hefty fortune of rare gems, not too far out either. Met the couple down in town the other day, both of them looking way out of sorts in that type of place. They're a naive couple, the woman much too willing to regale an old man with their woes. I mean they didn't outright mention the gems but a bit of eavesdropping made the whole situation pretty clear" Hosea paused to hand the roll over to Charles, further trapping him in his scheme. "They've just moved in up north, and from what I've gathered that was only possible through some substantial wealth, new money though- they’re clueless. The house being new and unfurnished is weighing heavily on their young minds so I decided it was great chance to advocate for my very own wall paper installation business."

"Why don't we just do the usual, send someone it?" Arthur asked.

"Well we could try that but I heard them saying things along the lines of 'they're hidden well' and 'nobody will ever think to look there'. Could be easier to have a good look if we're formally invited into their residence."

Charles, ever polite, just nodded along to all this and if his eye twitched a couple times, Hosea made no mention. Arthur had no doubt Hosea's research was accurate, the man had a natural talent for this sort of thing, but this job would be a stretch for Arthur's acting ability. He looked over to Charles, surely this wasn't the big break the larger man was looking for to further his reputation in the gang.

Charles began with his own question, "so you want us to get into the house and lift the gems when the couple is distracted?"

"Yeah, something like that. They seemed the paranoid pair- didn't even look my way till I stumbled over their table and whined about my old bones. It may require a more gentle touch with them to learn that information."

"And you think me and Charles here are that gentle touch?"

"Not quite, but you'll be given free reign of their house as you install the paper. I'll be there to talk to them periodically and all you've got to do is keep your heads downs and your eyes open. If things really go south it shouldn't be hard to get away but...well they seemed like good people, I wouldn't want to see them get hurt from this. All things considered, I figured you'd be the right choice for that." Hosea looked to Arthur.

"Really?" Arthur shifted, feeling Charles eyes on him. "Last time I checked I was just as violent as the next guy. If not more."

Hosea scoffed but didn't correct him before saying, "I just think you'd do a fine job. Why don't the two of you practice a bit more beforehand. They seemed like city folks, not really up for much physical work themselves but surely they'd be able to notice a shoddy job by supposed experts. It was a tough sell really, had to claim the glue was toxic and bound to melt the skin of the inexperienced." Hosea gathered his bag to him. "Told them I'd be by in two days to inspect the house so you've got some time." And he was off.

Arthur tested the yellow square on the ground with his boot. It wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. "You really going to come along with us for this?" he asked Charles. Charles just reached for the supplies and positioned another small square of paper in alignment to Arthur's.

"Why not? I'm no stranger to burglary even if my last job was straight, though the setup is a bit more upfront than I'm used to."

"I just mean-" Arthur trailed off, not wanting to insult Charles. "Well, it's not the most glamorous job out there, don't even know how much these gems are worth." Charles just shrugged, seemingly unconcerned about any of this. "Not to scare you off of course, happy to have you. Besides, your er- wall paper laying skills seem pretty good." Arthur gestured to the ground between them.

-

Two days later found Charles and Arthur, dressed in ridiculous overalls waiting in front of a cozy home surrounded by cottonwood trees. Hosea was at their side. It took a couple minutes of knocking before a rosy cheeked young woman peeked out the window next to the front door. The face disappeared from view, and after a second pause the door was opened, revealing both the woman and an equally young man with a crisp suit.

"Hello, hello Mr. Johnson, we've been expecting you," the woman greeted him, hardly even glancing at the two men holding cans of glue and trying not to look threatening.

"Why hello Mrs. Caudwell. Here we are, just as promised. This is Maxwell and Bartholomew, they may look brutish but they're mild as rabbits- the long arms are great for this field, believe me." Arthur was going to kill Hosea after this.

"Mam," Charles offered. Arthur just stood there. Mr. Caudwell similarly remained quiet. He looked on edge, constantly scanning the hills behind the men at his door.

"You okay there Mr. Caudwell?" asked Hosea, giving his best impression of a harmless old man.

"Yeah, just fine. Just eager to get things settled, this unfinished house has been quite grating to the nerves- waking up to barren walls and unfinished floors. Could make a man go mad." Hosea nodded in agreement.

"That they can sir, but these boys will gets things done in no time. Might be able to finish in just a couple days if they work hard-" Hosea cut off suddenly as he staggered to the side. Mrs. Caudwell jumped forward in surprise, catching him by the elbow.

"Are you okay Mr. Johnson?" Hosea righted himself and gave a self-conscious laugh.

"Oh I'll be fine, it's just the heat. It can really get to you when you’re my age." Mrs. Caudwell refused to let go of Hosea's arm until he was safely installed at a small table in the kitchen. Arthur and Charles followed behind, carrying all their supplies and making passing comments to each other regarding the finish of the walls or areas that might require extra sanding before the paper could be set. Although the house was nice, there was little of value past the fine clothing the pair were wearing.

After a brief explanation of the couple's expectations, the two men got to work. Hosea made good work roping Mrs. Caudwell into polite conversation but Mr. Caudwell, still on edge, couldn't move his eyes from Charles. Luckily, the work wasn't hard and when Arthur warned the others to stay back from the glue to reduce and chance of fume poisoning, even the man of the house took a few steps back. They started in the kitchen and were making real progress on the paper, if not the snooping.

"So when can everything get covered up, we're both quite intent on the walls being finished as soon as possible. In case we get visitors. I mean we have plans for some in just a couple days," Mrs. Caudwell said.

"Well as you can see, the walls are a bit rough. In that cases extra sanding in necessary. Perhaps if you've got plans I can have my men focus on certain areas first?" Hosea responded.

"Yes, that sounds great!" exclaimed the woman, "I would say working on the sitting room and bedroom first would be perfect." Arthur noticed the glare Mr. Cauldwell sent at his wife but kept his face straight.

"Yes, that is very possible. Why don't you two head over to those areas next. I'm afraid I'll have to stay put though, I'm still feeling a bit queasy," Hosea said, taking another sip of tea. Mr. and Mrs. Caudwell shared a look before Mr. Caudwell straightened up.

"I'll take these two men up to show them the space. You are more than welcome to stay down here Mr. Johnson, I trust you are comfortable?" Mr. Caudwell said.

Hosea nodded as Charles and Arthur collected their supplies and followed behind Mr. Caudwell. The bedroom was a bit more decorated but nothing super valuable stuck out to Arthur. Luckily the furniture was sparse. Charles went to move the bed so they could begin the installation but Mr. Caudwell jerked forward towards him.

"And what do you think you're doing?" he asked Charles, any sign of good will gone.

"Just moving the bed sir, we need to have clear walls to start."

"Well don't you go touching our furniture with your filthy hands. I'll do it myself. Both of you, stand back a bit, we just had the sheets cleaned." The man was scrawnier than Sean so moving the bed was quite a feat and Arthur barely managed to suppress laughter as the man turned bright red, pulling on the wooden frame. Charles slapped him in the leg, warning him, but couldn't help looking a bit amused himself by the display. When the bed reached the center of the room, Mr. Caudwell gestured to the expanse of wall. "You'd both better get started, I'm getting real sick of putting up with this, in my own house." He shook his head and settled into a chair, putting his feet up on an ottoman and staring the two men down as they began to work. The longer they worked, the more agitated the man got, alternating between muttering to himself about the state of the nation and banging around the room. At one point Mrs. Caudwell showed up before being herded outside the room and rudely told off and sent away. Unfortunately the man never took his vision off the two men.

Arthur feigned helping Charles with a sanding job to get close to him, trying to be subtle as he leaned over to his ear. "There's something in this room alright, I'd bet somewhere right under out feet," he whispered.

"Or in the walls," Charles responded.

"Would make sense, they're so desperate to get them covered."

"We've got to get them out of the room," Charles said, nudging Arthur to alert him the man was coming back. Arthur shot him a thumbs up. After a few more minutes of general chatter concerning his favorite wall paper patterns to Charles and a couple sharp comments from Mr. Caudwell to 'shut his damn hillbilly mouth,' Arthur made his move, swerving around in search of his other brush and knocking the tub of glue directly into the shallow basin of water they'd been using to soften their brushes. He scrambled up with a frightened cry, hoping he could somehow channel Hosea.

"Fuck! Oh no, this is bad!" Arthur all but tore his shirt up past his overalls to cover his face and ran for the door. "Get out Mr. Caudwell, the gas is toxic." Charles backed him up further by letting out huge gasping coughs, and as Arthur barreled past Mr. Caudwell, the agitated man taking off after him. Arthur wasn't sure how long he could stall for Charles, but he did his best to seem hysterical. "Mr. Johnson, things are bad up there. Bartholomew could be dead for all I know it happened do fast," Arthur yelled out as he skidded to a stop next to Hosea and Mrs. Caudwell. Her husband was pacing behind Arthur, furious look on his face.

"The fuck is going on here Mr. Johnson, hiring these fools to work on our house. Are we even safe here?" The man was yelling, even more unhinged than Arthur.

"What'd you do fool?" Hosea shouted himself, getting to his feet and crowding Arthur. "Speak!"

Arthur responded fitfully, "I'm sorry sir, I just, Bartholomew knocked the glue over, it got in the water- there was nothing I could do but get Mr. Caudwell out." Mr. Caudwell scoffed from his position behind them but made no move to correct Arthur's story.

"Well, we've got to get the hell out of here. Out, all of you!" Hosea shouted again, herding the whole party out the back door. The Caudwell’s were more agitated that ever but they allowed this, collapsing to the ground near the woodpile.

"So we'll have a dead idiot to deal with after all this? I'll have you know all payment is off the table Mr. Johnson- I've never seen such absent professionalism in my life. And this clown, should have seen him up there, acting real careless. Should've known something was up- damn you." Hosea lifted an eyebrow to Arthur who just glared back.

"Well, can't say for sure. The gas is only toxic if you inhale large amounts. Could be my man is just fine and able to finish the job when the gas clears up. Hard to say." Hosea answered.

"As if we'll let them finish the job after this mess. How do we know when it's clear?"

"Well, we'd have to send someone else in to know for sure..."

"You, hillbilly," Mr. Caudwell said, stabbing his finger into Arthur's chest, "you'd best go on in."

"Come on now, surely you don't to risk my man's life over this?" Hosea asked.

"He's the one who spilled the shit, let him deal with it."

"Well I suppose if he's careful it may be okay..." Hosea trailed off. "Maxwell, cover your face good and proper before going in, and if anything seems off, any whiff of sulfur, you come right back out here, you hear me?"

"Yes sir," Arthur said glumly, pulling his shirt back over his face and taking the necktie from Hosea to loop over the top. Once he was in the house he tore up the stairs. The door was closed and as he soon discovered, barricaded. "Charles, let me in. The man's out back with Hosea." The door swung open and Arthur gazed around, stunned by just how quickly Charles had dismantled the wall. The planks of walling had been nailed down at the top and bottom, and with the help of the back of his brush Charles had pried plank after plank off the wall. In a little pile near where the bed had been pushed lay the gems. Arthur let out a quiet laugh as he all by ran over to Charles. "You found them! Let's get these planks back up and head out, think we've still got some time- everyone thinks your good and dead. Maybe I should drag you out once we're done. Really play up the fact you weren't in here pryin' up the walls like some deranged ferret."

Charles looked at him oddly before saying, "wow Arthur, I didn't realize how into this sort of thing you were. Hosea was right about you."

"What? I’m not into it, just want the gems. Hosea’s the one who has fun with this." Charles blinked at him.

"Okay..."

They got to work after that. They soon realized the nails were bound to make some noise when hammered in so they lined everything up before Arthur begun his anguished shouting, red in the face and more embarrassed than he'd been in months. For good measure they added a bit more wallpaper over the plank that had yielded the gems, best to leave it looking properly covered before making their exit. Once everything looked normal and all the larger wood fragments were collected in Arthur's pocket they made the trip downstairs where Charles proceeded to go limp, in agreement that keeping him dead would reduce the couple’s suspicions. Arthur just barely managed to heft the larger man over his shoulder and staggered out the back door. Mrs. Caudwell let out a little scream as Arthur lowered the corpse to the ground.

"The poor man, oh goodness. Is he?" she asked.

"Yeah, 'fraid he's gone," Hosea said after bending down to check his pulse. "He's gone."

"Oh lord, this is awful. Did he have a family?"

"Oh yes mam, Bartholomew here had a wife and seven children," Arthur said, "he's all they got. You two will be fine though, the gas is gone and I separated the glue from the water and lidded it up." Ms. Caudwell insisted on paying them for the job, incomplete as it was. For all Mr. Caudwell’s complaining and moping the woman held strong and Arthur was beginning to feel a bit sorry for stealing her gems. Not sorry enough to refuse her money though. As they loaded Charles to the back on Arthur's horse, Ms. Caudwell waved them off.

"Don't worry Mrs. Caudwell, I'll give him a proper burial. A mountainside perhaps," Arthur said, and they were off.


	4. A Return to Ranching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another (shorter) chapter because why not?

Arthur’s morning had been rough. He was awakened by Bill stomping around, angered by something or other and determined to make everyone else suffer too. Arthur refused to let him ruin his sleep and just flopped over and put his pillow over his ears. After ten minutes of this, Arthur gave up with a sigh and hoisted himself up and after the fool.

“What you doin’ Bill? It can’t even be seven- folk are tryin’ to sleep,” Arthur said with a glare, crossing his arms over his union suit in the cold morning air.

“I can do what I damn please, Morgan. I’m just frustrated is all.”

“And the whole camp needs to know about your ‘frustrations’ too, is it? Maybe you should go figure them out alone- far away from here.”

“Very funny Morgan. It’s the damn dynamite.”

“What ‘bout it?”

“I risked my ass, near died for it and now the job is off? I wouldn’t have even bothered with that ridiculous plot if not for you boys getting on my back ‘bout it.”

“Well what can I say Williamson, things fall through. It’ll come in handy one of these days, stop whinin’ ‘bout it,”

“Somethings gettin’ blow up today, mark my words,” he said before walking off in a rage. A couple other gang members looked at Arthur questioningly, but he had no answers.

Well there was no use going back to sleep after that, so Arthur wandered off over to the horses. Sparrow seemed neutral to any attention Arthur gave her, polite enough but not the most social of horses. After a quick brush down of her and the other odd horse Arthur wandered off in search of more work. Charles had taken on much of the day-to-day labor Arthur used to manage but there was still the odd job needing attention. To be honest, he was a little put off that Dutch had dropped the job at the mine. It had sounded promising and not likely to generate much heat- Hosea had a whole draft about making it look like an accidental blasting incident. Not that Bill needed to know that he agreed with him. He had a suspicion about Dutch's intention, but nothing concrete- just a small rumor floating around, the smallest whisper of O'Driscolls in the area. Dutch soon gathered a small group that set off immediately for some nebulous prize with only few lines of instructions. Hosea stayed behind but Arthur went, worried about Dutch and his uncharacteristically brash plan.

-

A few hours later, Javier, Bill, Dutch, Karen, Charles, and Arthur rode hard through the desert gully, at least ten men on their heels. A few gang members shot the odd bullet behind themselves at the incoming men but all the massive rock formations rising around them made anything past avoiding slamming into rocks hard enough. The men on their tails let their own rounds off from their much better firing position, but so far, none had stuck. Every time someone got a good shot lined up, new walls of rock forced the horses to skid the side to account for the bends. Karen and Bill were currently facing off, Karen criticizing Bill for tripping over the sleeping lawman outside the courthouse and Bill spouting something about how women and their place in the home.

Arthur rode up alongside Dutch, sick of the bickering. "Dutch, we ain't gonna made it without taking some of them out."

"Got some dynamite Dutch," Bill broke in, pausing his argument in favor of shaking the red cylinder. In the distance they could see slivers of the bridge, perhaps a quarter mile out.

"God's sake Williamson, be careful with that thing!" Dutch said, as he surveyed their path. "Bill. Stay back while the rest of us cross. Then set them up to blow as they cross the bridge. See that rock up ahead? Hide behind that till the moment’s right, they won't even see you." Arthur wasn't sure how that was supposed to work, given Bill would be caught on the wrong side of the cliff following any blast but he kept pushing Sparrow onward, considering the bridge in the distance. “Arthur, see that hill? Take position and cover Bill from there." So Arthur would also be stranded on the wrong side of the bridge too, with Bill Williamson of all people. With a long suffering look, Arthur nodded and broke off from the group to take position, twisting to draw his rifle. Bill nodded to him, somber but determined. As expected, the two men were able to creep out from the gully and into position before their enemies could make the last turn towards the opening, the only sign of them a distant thudding and a cloud of dust emerging from atop the framework of rock.

The main group was halfway across the bridge, Dutch leading and Charles at the rear, as the first group of gunmen veered around the final bend- finally in view from Arthur’s vantage point. He signaled to Bill who- protected by a boulder wrapping backwards from the opening- nodded, dynamite in hand. Some of the horses crossing the bridge seemed to have spooked, and by the sound of the enemy hoof beats Arthur could tell his own group wasn't going to make it to the other side before the next group showed up.

Charles seemed to sense the same thing and suddenly swerved his horse around, making a break in the direction the group had come from. Arthur almost cried out to him but doubled down with his gun instead. When he first man broke out from the gully, Charles was ready for him from atop Taima, and all but blasted his skull open before skidding to slow down and jerking his horse towards the cover the gully's outermost wall provided. Right of the opening and opposite from Bill. Two more riders raced past their fellow downed man, clearly confused about where the shot had come from. Arthur finally had a clear shot and took the first man down as Charles reached out from his hiding place to grab the next man by his collar, quickly pulling him off his horse with one hand and slamming his head into the rock wall in a very familiar move. With his other hand Charles grabbed the reins and jerked the spooked horse to join him behind the cliff.

In the moment of silence that followed Arthur glanced to see Dutch and the others make it safely to the other side of the bridge, the man himself throwing a confused look over his shoulder at Arthur- who nodded to him while leveling another shot. Dutch nodded back and the group raced into the forest beyond.

"What are you doing Smith?" Arthur heard Bill yell, "wait till the rest get onto the damn bridge."

"Horses, finish them here," Charles managed to say before the next men broke through. Arthur was ready this time and leveled a shot clean into one of the man's heads as Bill finally emerged from behind his own spot with his shotgun. The next man through was all but thrown as his horse reared up in face of the yelling and the pile of bloody men filling the entrance of the gully. A lasso quickly dropped over its head and Bill picked off the fallen man as his horse bolted back into the gully, colliding with another rider. From their relatively guarded positions they waited. More remained in the gully but the pile of men near the bridge, and panicked horses must have given them pause- no more emerged and after a few tense minutes of waiting, Arthur hopped down to join the other two men.

Bill was currently stripping the corpses down, collecting whatever salvageable clothing and other belongings he could find. Charles was focused on his own new conquests, two sturdy horses- one of which prancing back and forth in earnest, trying to break free. Arthur darted for the third, remaining horse who had made it over near Bill, only a few feet from the cliff side. There was no clear path of escape for the horse, and in fear it began intense bucking as Arthur threw his own rope over it’s head. With some tugging and gentle words Arthur was able to encourage the horse over to the middle of the outcrop, away from the side of the cliff.

Eventually all the horses were calmed somewhat, though all were clearly still spooked from all the blood and their new handlers.

"What the hell was that Smith? You trying to die, pulling a stunt like that? Dutch'll have your hide for sure. I was all set to blow the damn bridge." Bill paused his irate pacing to shove the unused dynamite in Charles's face.

"You see that horse Arthur's got? That's a Turkoman, worth more than most of the gang's horses put together. Blowing her up along with the rest of the horses wouldn't have done us any good. And that bridge? We use that almost everyday when heading south, it's the only crossing for miles," Charles said, sounding angrier than Arthur had ever heard him. "Wasn't about to waste all that when the gang is in dire need of horses."

"How'd you even know, you’re new to all this?," Bill yelled back, "who knows who else will follow us back over the bridge. "

The two men were close, breathing hard, but Arthur wasn't about to let a fight break out among them with enemies still possibly on their tails.

Arthur positioned himself just to the side of the two man. "Calm down, both of you- we've gotta get back to the others. Dutch can handle this Bill, you don't got to fight his battles for him. Besides, we've got three horses we didn't ten minutes ago."

Bill pushed past Arthur and mounted his own horse before retorting, "figured you'd be the one to defend his craziness Morgan. Ever since the bastard arrived you've been all over him."

Arthur felt his face heat up at the implication. "Well I'd much rather run with Charles than you Bill," he said. Arthur continued, quieter so Charles couldn't hear, "I thought I'd made that clear a long, long time ago."

If Bill looked angry before, he looked murderous now. "Well fuck off Morgan, I never wanted nothin' from you." The man cast one last scathing look between the two men and took of across the bridge. As Bill disappeared into the forest, Arthur turned to Charles and sighed deeply.

"Come on, we'd better get out of here before the rest arrive," Arthur said, mounting up on Sparrow. Charles nodded but threw a curious glance after Bill. "Don't worry 'bout him, he'll cool down soon enough- always does." The two rode off together, not a word passing between them till they were deep into the forest.

"Think Dutch will kick me out for this?" Charles suddenly asked.

"For that? Nah, ‘specially after he see's these beauties. Seemed like he pulled that dynamite thing out of his ass after listenin' to Williamson bitch about it all mornin’.” They rode in silence a few minutes before Arthur continued, “I get what you did Charles, really. But well, it was pretty rash, charging them on your own. Even by my standards."

Charles seemed to agree, "yeah, I know- wasn't planning it. But then Dutch wanted Bill to just blow them all up. Seemed like a waste and I guess I snapped a bit. I've spent the last year raising horses, wasn't about to let them all just die for nothing, if I could help it."

Arthur could relate, the horses back at Skyfield still weighed heavy on him, Poppy's cries frequently startling him awake at night. "I get that, I for one am thankful for whatever the hell that was." They herded the small group of horses the rest of the way to camp and Dutch's judgement in peaceful silence.

-

When they arrived, a small group had already gathered around Bill and Dutch to get all the details of the raid. After quickly tethering the new mounts to a wall, Arthur and Charles wandered over to the group together.

"Here they are," Dutch said, arms wide out to his sides. "Come with me boys, let's hear it." They trailed behind Dutch as the rest of the gang hung back around the new horses. Arthur heard a couple whoops, Sean and Lenny from the sound of it. They all situated themselves out front Dutch's tent with Hosea to spill their tale. When Dutch bluntly asked Charles his intentions in rushing back and undermining his plan he repeated what he had told Bill and Arthur. He apologized for acting rashly, but not for the actions themselves and when he was dismissed, he left with his head held high.

Dutch scanned Arthur's face for a moment before sighing, "I hadn't noticed the fire in Mr. Smith till today. I'll let him have this victory, very brave what he did."

"Bill was right though," Hosea cut in, "craziness it was- as much as we need horses, I'm not so eager to trade one of our men's lives for them. Charles is a good addition to this group, watch his back would you Arthur?"

Arthur scoffed. "As if Charles needs me to watch his back, he seems more than capable on his own."

"True, I'd tell him the same of you." Hosea stood up and turned towards the new horses to get a look. Dutch remained sitting and when he removed a cigar, Arthur mirrored him, pulling out a cigarette of his own. The two men sat together as the gang continued their joyful inspection of the new horses.

"I'll let him have this one," Dutch repeated, "real brave." He trailed off, smoke curling into the sky.

-

The next morning Arthur nursed a slight headache. The night before had gotten a bit wild, the gang hyped up on both the new horses and the thick wad of cash retrieved from the holding they'd hit. Weren't any O'Driscolls there that Arthur had noticed, but the job was solid, the takings large. Larger than any in months and everyone was just a little lighter as they fantasized about what they'd do with their share.

As Arthur headed over to the campfire in search of coffee he just about tripped over a slumbering form. A groan emerged from the lump, Lenny perhaps? "Come on kid, what you doing sleepin' in the middle of camp like that?" Arthur crouched down to offer the man a hand as he emerged from the cocoon.

"Why'd you let me drink that much Arthur? My head's pounding..."

"Oh come on you'll be fine- it was just a few drinks. Let's get you some coffee." Arthur easily hoisted him up and soon they were both positioned near the fire, coffee cups in hand. "One of these days I'll have to take you out to a real bar for some real drinking. None of this watered-down whisky Pearson buys." Lenny leveled him with a long-suffering glare as he took a sip of coffee. Arthur just laughed. "Or maybe if you're not up for it, I'll take the Callender boys."

"Oh you'd better not ditch me for those boys," another calculating look, "just give me a heads up will you? Somehow I think I'll need some time to prepare for this 'real drinking' of yours."

"Sure, sure. I'll send an invite for you to RSVP to."

"To what?"

"Oh nothing, I'll let you know." With a final sip Arthur eased himself off the bench. "Also, if you're feeling better later, me and Javier are hitting a homestead up north. It's a small place, probably not much there, but we could use a lookout." Lenny brightened up as Arthur headed out with a nod. Lenny was relatively new to the gang, but Arthur could sense his potential. He also appreciated how Lenny seemed to reign in Sean some, or at least kept him off Arthur's back.

Looking out over the new horses Arthur gave himself a moment to breathe. Things were finally starting to look up, the gang was happy and for once their plans to move on from the Grizzlies sounded possible- new pastures as Dutch would say. They’d been talking of Blackwater lately and while that wasn’t Arthur’s first choice, the push to move on excited him, opened all sorts of new opportunities. Besides, Blackwater was a relatively new town, probably thick with the coin of rich folk moving out west. Maybe Bill could find something out their to blow up, he thought as he passed where the man was sitting, still angry by the look of it.

"Bill," he saluted the man.

"Morgan." Arthur got another glare as he grabbed his horse's reigns.

With a final glance back at his family Arthur headed for the cave entrance on the new Turkoman. Dutch had awarded her to Charles after the air had settled, and for whatever reason, Charles had sought Arthur out and outright gifted him the horse. Apparently Taima was enough and he wasn't interesting in hoarding. As crazy as Arthur found this sentiment, he accepted her happily and named her Boadecia.


	5. Snakes and Pigs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a sad day when Micah shows up and ruins your life immediately, from first glimpse.

The day Micah Bell swaggered into camp wasn't Arthur's finest by a long shot, he was exhausted from his morning job with Javier and in for no mood for new faces. Their plans to move out had also been delayed to accommodate the new man’s arrival- it being much easier to screen a man when you weren’t knee deep in travel filth. The blond man's smirking face bothered Arthur from his first glimpse, it seemed so false and calculating and when they were formally introduced outside of Dutch's tent later that day, his impression was even worse. Micah had already taken it upon himself to make himself comfortable on one of Dutch’s folding chairs and had even pulled out a bottle of something he noisily drank down while Arthur made an attempt at conversation. Unlike most new recruits, Micah didn't look the least put out by Arthur's gruff countenance and even laughed a bit while answering Arthur's questions.

"Weren't quite what I expected Dutch, from what you were saying," the man began, gesturing to the camp, and judging by the arch of his arm past him, Arthur himself.

"And what's that supposed to mean Bell?" Dutch asked lightly, patting Arthur's shoulder, clearly noticing the coiled tension there.

"Oh, nothing bad, just you've got a lot of women here, and other interesting folk."

"Well it's like I said, we have a haven for all sorts here. It's the ideal of what this country should be, not what it's become. And I think a man such as yourself could really be an asset to us, provided you adhere to similar principles."

A big smile grew on the man's face, "and how could I not? I get along great with everyone once they get past my more hands-on approach to business."

Dutch clapped his had to Micah's shoulder this time. "That I've seen already my friend. So selfless an act!" Arthur must have missed something, Micah seemed to almost be purring at the attention, all spread out on that damn chair like he owned the place. "Maybe it's time you met some more of the boys since Arthur here is being so unwelcoming. Don't worry though, that's his job- without him keeping watch over us, we'd be dead ten times over." A peace offering from Dutch then. Arthur nodded, taking the bait- he supposed he could show this man a bit warmer a welcome.

Dutch and Micah left together to make a loop around the camp but Arthur didn't bother to watch, he seemed to be here to stay for now given with how taken Dutch seemed to be. As Arthur took a drag on his second cigarette Lenny darted over to him, hovering awkwardly till Arthur gestured to the chair Micah had vacated.

"Arthur, I don't want speak out of turn, given you've all given me such a warm welcome but... well, is that Micah fellow going to be with us long?" Lenny said, fidgeting with the seat cover.

"Why you askin'.”

"No reason, I just thought maybe he was just passin' through. Seems a different sort." Arthur snorted.

"Yeah, that man’s a snake however you look at him. But hey, Dutch can read people like nobody else- could be this man knows something useful or has some handy skill we're lackin' in. Let's just wait and see- we gotta trust Dutch and his plans, he hasn't let us down yet."

"Okay Arthur, I'll try- you've seen more of Dutch's planning than me. I just- the way he was looking at folk when Dutch brought him over. Hardly even said a word to me then went and hugged Mary-Beth in greetin'. She didn't seem to thrilled 'bout that though and Dutch had to pull him back."

Arthur was trying to keep calm but the more he saw and heard of Micah, the more confused he was. Why would Dutch bring a man like this back to camp?

"I get it Lenny, I'll keep an eye out, you do the same. I'll also have a talk with Karen over there, one word to her and Susan and Micah will stay well back from Mary-Beth. If he's got any sense that is."

The morning had grated on Arthur's nerves, and when Dutch reported back to him that he was to take Micah out on a job that very evening Arthur was stuck between baffled over why Micah was already being given an in, and reassured that he'd get to monitor the man in action and weed out anything sinister before he mingled too much with the gang. He was the watchdog after all, and this could just be Dutch's way of having Arthur intimidate the man into compliance.

-

Evening found Micah Bell lurking back with Bill Williamson, laughing over a beer. Arthur put his arm up in welcome and begun, "you ready, Mr. Bell?"

The man staggered up and gave Arthur's arm a pat, Bill's eyes bugging out a little. "Sure thing Arthur, just Micah is fine though, given that we're family now." Arthur allowed the touch with a grunt in response, glaring back at Bill who just put his hands up in surrender. The two men collected their horses and set off through the caves toward the surrounding woods.

"So Bell," Arthur begun, "appreciate how eager you seem to be here but I've gotta have a few words with you- routine things of course. This gang is built on trust and it's my job to ensure you’re clear on just how we operate. It may be a bit different than some of the others gangs 'round here."

"Of course, go for it- I'll make sure to take notes. Can't help noticing you glaring a hole in my head though friend."

"Well like Dutch said, that's my job- I'm pretty good at it too, weeding out slimy individuals and the like. Been here for more than a few years and 'ave had to deal with more than a few problems. It's always good to be careful in the beginnin' after all, you'll earn your trust when you prove yourself. Same for everyone in that camp," said Arthur, keeping his tone neutral.

Micah nodded his head in understanding before asking, "what about that Leonard kid, what he have do to prove himself to you?"

"Lenny? He done enough, maybe just focus on yourself tonight Bell- we've got work to do." Arthur offered a nod to the man and began laying out the plans.

-

They eventually found themselves in Berrysberg and Arthur was feeling great about Boadicea, the ride had been smooth and seamless, disregarding the stilted conversation with Micah. Before setting off for the small pig farm north of the town for their job, the men eased into the town to pick up some supplies- it’d been a few weeks since he'd had the opportunity to restock his cans and ammunition. Micah didn't seem to mind the detour and wandered off the saloon. Arthur took just a few minutes to bathe before joining him, it’d been a while.

"This always your routine before a robbery- primping yourself up?" Micah asked Arthur in welcome.

"Not usually no, you could go with a bath yourself though, Mr. Bell."

"Should've invited me along then Arthur, if that's your deal.” He paused, waiting for Arthur to react. So he didn’t- just leveled Micah with a stare. “Not me though, I have my sights on Mary-Beth- that's a thing I could get behind, if you know what I mean."

"Fuck off, that what you and Williamson were gigglin' over? None of those women would ever let you anywhere near them. Now come on- got a job to do," Arthur said, anger rising- who did this greasy man think he was? Arthur got to his feet and headed towards the door, expecting Micah to jump up and follow behind but he hung back at the bar.

"We'll see about that. I can be very persuasive. Be right out Morgan, gotta finish my drink first," Micah called after him, raising his glass. Arthur didn't pause to respond, just stalked out and into the alley where they'd put up their horses. In his anger he failed to notice the man at first, his hand to his elbow in Arthur's saddlebag.

"The fuck you doing?" Arthur growled at the man, punching him square in the face automatically. The man fell hard into the mud and Arthur was left staring down at him, anger easing at the pitiful sight. "You'd best move on now," he said, making no further moves toward him. Just as the man was about to stumble up, a boot came crashing down directly to his face, forcing him back into the mud and holding him there while he sputtered. "Mr. Bell," Arthur greeted, "I already taught this man his lesson, best let him up before he makes a fuss." Micah just looked at him and followed up with a sharp kick to the man's face before moving for his own horse.

"That worked too Morgan, if silencing the fellow was the goal I think I did a pretty great job. Gotta teach him respect- isn't that what you're all about anyway?" Arthur surveyed the street and when no obvious witnesses looked down the alley, he made quick work of dragging the unconscious man further back before arranging his limbs in a less awkward position.

"Let's just get this job done now, we've wasted enough time here," Arthur said, mounting his horse and riding forward without a second glance back at Micah.

-

For all the man's bluster, he was steady as they ransacked the thankfully empty pig farm- Dutch's tip had been solid. The two made quick work of the townhouse and were able to retrieve a solid collection of various coins, jewelry, and booze. "Morgan, get over here- think I found something interesting." Arthur followed he voice, eventually finding beside Micah in the master bedroom. "Think we could manage it?" Micah gestured to the large portrait of a stern man and his wife above the fireplace. The artist clearly had skill, and the elaborate framing suggested some serious funds went into the painting. But it was a good seven feet across, spanning most of the room.

"I don't know 'bout this one, may be hard to transport it," Arthur said after thinking in over.

"Nah, don't be like that. I'll just take it out of the frame, and we can roll it up." Micah popped his blade out and got to work. Ten minutes later and Micah still struggled with the canvas, thick and almost melted around the wooden frame. Arthur was watching the windows impatiently.

"Bell, we've got to go, hurry up."

"I'm getting there, calm yourself while I just pop this little piece- ah, there," Micah said. He had managed to remove the first edge but three remained.

"We've got to go. Now. I see lantern out there. Just leave the damn painting!" Micah cursed and resorted to dragging the blade roughly over the canvas, cutting the painting out roughly along the edges, tearing a bit into the landscape surrounding the figures. The painting was out and soon stuffed unceremoniously in Micah's bag. The two men all but fell out the upstairs window into the pig sty below as the front door was opened. With a practiced low whistle, Arthur's horse appeared by the sty, followed by Micah's a moment later. The men were mounted and off free, nobody the wiser, when Micah suddenly let of a loud whoop and sent a bullet into one of the pigs behind them. Immediately yelling broke out from the house and the rest of the pigs squealed in horror at the commotion. Micah was laughing wildly as the two men tore off down the road, away from Berrysberg, goods secured in their bags.

-

They didn't say much on the way back. Arthur trying to come up with a good explanation that would result in Micah being sent for the hills. A small, wilder part of him told him to just take the man out, here in the woods. But no, he wasn't about to act against Dutch like that, the man had led them this far. They reached the camp and Arthur turned to Micah. "Half goes to the camp, rest we split. I'm going to have a talk with Dutch, you just sit easy. And don't you go bothering the ladies neither," Arthur said, scanning the camp for Dutch. But Micah didn't bother to wait like Arthur ordered, choosing instead to walk up to Dutch.

"Hey boss," Micah started as the older man turned to the pair.

"Hello boys, how'd it go?" Micah just emptied his bag, riches falling out, followed by the slightly mangled portrait.

"Morgan's got more- it was an easy enough job. Nobody even saw our faces."

"Good to hear. Very good. Take your share then Mr. Bell and go get yourself a beer!" A final clap to the back and Micah scurried off, leaving Arthur to the Dutch.

"I don't trust him Dutch," Arthur said, wasting no time. Dutch frowned.

"Seems like you got on fine by all this loot. What's wrong with him?"

"He's unpredictable, on the out he went and shot a pig for no reason and just about alerted everyone in that house.”

"I thought he said nobody saw you?"

"Well they didn't see us exactly, but they sure as hell heard us."

"I get it son, he's a bit of a character. But he helped pull off the thing, I think you should give the man another chance." Dutch looked at Arthur, a plea in his eye. "Don't you trust my judgement Arthur? I've never seen you throw a fit like this over one of my decisions. What about Charles, when he went off the rails back with those horses? I let that man's impulsive theatrics slide, why not give the same benefit of the doubt to Micah? I know you're less flashy now Arthur but a few years back you were the spitting image of him. Just let him be, would you?" Arthur was at a loss, Dutch had never talked to him quite like that and Arthur felt his throat burn, at the outright dismissal by the man he considered a father.

"And Hosea?" Arthur managed, "what does he think of Bell."

"He may not see the same potential as I do, but he certainly isn't as...broken up about it as you are. I’m always careful though- he does something wrong, I’ll be the first person to notice. Why don't you get some sleep? You look tired.”

"Yeah, okay Dutch."

-

Arthur made a beeline for the small campfire the women were bunched around.

"Hey Karen, a word?" Arthur said, the laughing group tensing up when they saw the look in his eye.

"Yeah sure Arthur, just a minute," Karen replied. They found themselves behind a wagon.

"Uh, not sure if I should’ve said this to the whole group but well- I didn't want the rest of the camp to hear me. About Micah-"

Karen cut him off with a scoff and cut in, "what about that dog? Why's he even still here Arthur, is Dutch just going to overlook how he's snooping around some us?"

"Guess you don't need the heads up then?"

"We've got a good idea 'bout that man Arthur, he's not exactly subtle. 'Appreciate the sentiment though, we're making a point to travel together now. Bullshit that we've gotta put up with this though, most of us were finally feeling safe 'round here." Arthur felt a cloud of guilt for not just shooting the man in the woods.

"Glad to hear you're lookin' out Karen. Just- he started talkin' to me 'bout Mary-Beth specifically." Karen's eyes darkened. "So maybe some extra care?"

"Yeah, thanks Arthur. I'll tell her. He didn't say anything else, did he?"

"Nah, not really. But from a man like him...just be careful is all. But I doubt he'll be 'round too much longer- you gals aren't the only one's I've talked to with doubts. I reckon Dutch'll come to his senses soon." Karen didn't jump to agree with him but gave a little nod. They broke apart and went their separate ways. Arthur needed a drink.


	6. Interlude

Arthur was hard at work, securing his wagon ties over it’s bulging contents. The camp was bustling, everyone’s mood good. Folk were tired of the cold and the idea of getting down to Blackwater after weeks of talk was welcome. Arthur had never been in the town proper, as it was hardly even a town until recently, but had been in the area countless times years back.

Back when he’d seek out Eliza and the boy, Isaac. He remembered the yellow fields and scraggly trees. Going fishing with the boy, stumbling over explanations of why he couldn’t join Arthur on his travels. Sometimes the boy would nod along and slink back to his mother and sometimes he’d make a stand and need to be pulled away in tears. Either way, Arthur would feel the same guilt as Eliza would smile-not quite reaching her eyes- and take the boy back into her arms. Stuck in these memories, the energy of the camp couldn't quite reach Arthur but he was happy for them- folks needed a break.

"You okay there Arthur?" Arthur looked up, Charles had wandered over to him, the only one not scared off by his mood. He was carrying a hefty bundle wrapped in a blanket.

"Yeah, I’m good Charles- just stuck in the past is all. You need something?" I may have sounded like a dismissal, but Arthur didn't mean it as such and continued on, "you need some space for all that? I've got a bit of spare room in the back here. Somewhere." Charles took him up on his offer, helping Arthur undo the straps in order to fit the final luggage onto the wagon.

"Thanks. Taima would've carried it- but not happily."

"Yeah, best not force her to carry too much. Had enough of that a while back- she probably has a big grudge towards me."

"I doubt it, I'm sure she loves you by now," Arthur gave him a look as he continued," I've see you, you know? Bribing her when you think I'm not looking." Arthur laughed, Charles didn't seem upset at least. Arthur truly had thought he was being sneaky about all the sugar but apparently nothing got past Charles Smith. He was quiet presence in camp but quickly gained folk’s respect and volunteered to be lookout more than was strictly fair. But Arthur wasn't complaining, if the man wanted to, who was Arthur to stop him. Micah’s reception was a bit more varied, Bill seemed to like him well enough, as did both the Callender boys- a similar energy in those three.

-

From across camp Arthur heard a sudden shout, Abigail it sounded like. He turned around to see the woman all but dragging John towards her tent.

"You good for nothing deadbeat! This is what you left me to, for months, Jack thinking you dead- or worse. John Marston you get your ass back here." John had taken off the moment her grip loosened, beelining past Arthur and Charles.

"What you doin’ John? Leaving her to pack up all your damn things?" Arthur called out, only to get a face full of angry John.

"And what's it to you? You're as bad as her Arthur- why don't you all just back off. I never asked for any of this, and I came back. What more do you want?" Arthur shoved him back in disgust, Charles sidestepping away from the incoming man.

"Not my fault you knocked someone up, why don't you just run off again if you ain’t gonna be a father to the poor boy."

"What do you know 'bout it Arthur? From what I remember, you ain't so different yourself!" John landed on the ground, nose bleeding, and Arthur was just pulled away in time to save John from another blow. Arthur struggled a moment before recalling his first meeting with Charles- he wasn't going anywhere till Charles willed it. John looked half a mind to go after Arthur from where he was immobilized but the glare from Charles must have scared him off. He turned on his heels and stalked off. Away from Arthur and away from Abigail.

"Let go of me," he snarled and Charles immediately went slack.

"Sure Arthur," Charles said, and put his hands up a little as Arthur rounded on him. After a momentary standoff Arthur backed down with a sigh.

"Thanks, I just. That boy makes me so mad something, don’t even see all the good things he got." Charles seemed about to say something but closed his mouth in favor of finishing cinching closed the straps. Arthur joined him in the inspection of the wagon before offering him a cigarette from his pack. They settled down right there on the ground, waiting for Dutch to give the signal. Arthur's tension was at a peak now, thoughts of Isaac and Jack, Eliza and Abigail swirling in his mind.

-

The trip down from the Grizzlies was hard on both the animals and the people, mud getting stuck under the wagon wheels at every turn, horses struggling to stay upright. But surprisingly Arthur was able to breathe again, the swaying of the tree branches and feel of actual earth beneath him. Boadicea wasn’t having the same issues as many of the other horses and wagons on her long legs, so he’d volunteered to ride alongside the wagons and loosen any muddy buildup.

Hosea drove Arthur’s wagon, Charles mounted up with him. The two of them had hit it off after the paper job together, bonding over their mockery of Arthur. Arthur had grumbled and threatened that he would in fact follow through with burying Charles if they continued their yapping, but Charles had just laughed and responded with an imitation of Arthur's panicked yelling. From then on Arthur was wary when the other two men spent time together, but secretly, he was happy. Hosea seemed taken with the younger man and after everything he'd done for Arthur, he wanted all the happiness in the world for him. As they continued down the rugged path through the forest, Arthur’s mind turned towards the past again.

One of the hardest times of his life was when Hosea went off with Bessie, leaving a devastated Dutch alone with Arthur. Not to say Dutch treated him wrong- he was just quieter and brooding and Arthur was plagued with fear that any wrong move would result in an explosion. One day after getting into Dutch's whisky and being discovered by the man, Arthur had broken down and admitted all his fears. That Dutch would get tired of him and beat him half to death before abandoning him. The man in question was distraught by the outburst and had ended up hugging Arthur close and swearing to him that he would never hurt him, no matter what. After that, things had been better but when Hosea joined back up with them, a weight seemed to be lifted from both of them.

"You good there Arthur?" Hosea said, shocking Arthur out of his thoughts. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinkin' is all," he responded. Talking was jarring, and he could will nothing else out, choosing instead to slip back into the past. 

The party saw a few travelers on the road but no law, and even Micah kept to himself most of the way. The gang was clearly tired though, as they rolled passed Rigg's station, a marker that Blackwater wasn't far off. Another day of traveling perhaps. The wagons rolled to a stop for the night and Arthur turned to his journal as the sun set. For all the fresh air, Arthur was sore from the uneven terrain and couldn’t manage much as he drifted to sleep, boots still on his feet.

_We got plenty of money, and the trail we took today was so torturous and slow nobody could have followed us south and east, or figured out where we are heading. Abigail and Marston keep arguing. I wonder why exactly he came back. He cannot seem to decide if he wants to be a father to that boy of his or not. It’s exhausting but I shouldn't have punched him. Sometimes I really don't think Jack will have a father if John keeps this up. All this reminds me of Isaac, not being there for him enough. Maybe Marston was right and we ain’t so different._

-

Another day brought them to their destination- holed up a bit out of town, sheltered from the wind by a rock formation sprouting up from the prairie. Breaking down the wagons and setting everything up took about a day but as soon as all the chores were done, the party broke up into smaller groups that eagerly filed out of the camp to explore the surrounding wilderness or town. Arthur chose to wander off with Javier in search of a good fishing spot, not yet mustering the energy to travel down to the town proper. If Javier noticed Arthur's nerves, he didn't mention it.

"Your wrist is all wrong, here like this," Javier finally said, grabbing Arthur's wrist himself and wrangling it into proper form.

"You sure Javier? This don't feel right."

"Yes, I'm sure. See all these fish I've got here?" here gestured down to the impressive pile. “Let's get a few more, everyone else is so eager to get into town that I doubt they'll be much fresh food if we don't get it ourselves.”

"What 'bout you? I'd think you'd be first in line to head to town," Arthur asked.

"Well we can't have the entire gang just show up down there. That's not a good look, It'll put people on edge. I'll head over in a couple days. But for now, someone has to teach you to fish- your wrist is slipping again." Arthur looked down, sure enough his wrist had reverted, his pile still pitifully small.

"The difference is only so obvious because you’re a genius at this. Compared to anyone else, I'd be doin’ fine, wrist or no," Arthur said with a laugh, "you ever look into prize fishing them real big ones? There's some money in it." A few more minutes of peaceful fishing before Arthur broached the topic. "Hey Javier? What you think of Micah?"

Javier considered the question a bit before saying anything. "He's alright I guess."

"You don't think he's too rash?"

"I don't like the man much. He's full of shit and insufferable around camp. But Dutch wants him there and I'm not going to speak against him. Got a feeling Dutch knows something we don't."

"I trust Dutch too, that man took me in when I was nothin’, but this Micah character... Figured if we all hated the man, Dutch would have to listen. You could be right though." Javier looked uncomfortable after that and Arthur was beginning to think he shouldn't have mentioned the man at all.

"I get you, but let's not talk about Micah Bell, I can smell him from hear." With a laugh, the men continued their fishing till the sun was beginning to set. They headed back to the beginnings of a party; Pearson immensely thankful for the heap of fish deposited on his table. Arthur said goodbye to Javier and faded off into the crowd, not feeling especially celebratory. Too many thoughts had been swirling through his head ever since the fight with John back in the cave.

-

As the festivities calmed down Arthur went to find Dutch.

"Arthur!" he was greeted by the man, clearly a bit warm with drink. "How can I help you on this fine evening?"

"Dutch, I think I'm gonna head out now. To the graves that is. They aren't too far from here, couple hours south maybe." Dutch sobered up and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Tonight, after all that traveling son? You sure that's a good idea? They'll be there tomorrow."

"I know, but I won't get no sleep till I do it- better now so I can focus on our plans tomorrow," Arthur said. Dutch looked like he wanted to argue more but decided against it and wished Arthur luck and a few words in support instead.

"Be safe out there son, we need you here." Arthur nodded and set off for Boadicea. He wasn't surprised to see Charles tending to the horses, seemingly still sober himself.

"You heading out? Now?" Charles asked.

"Yeah, shouldn't be too long though," Arthur responded, grabbing Boadicea’s reigns and mounting up. Charles looked up at him, confused.

"You need some backup or something? I'm free." Charles looked so earnest in the offer that Arthur hesitated for a moment, entertaining the thought of bringing him along, telling him what was on his mind, confiding in someone he felt comfortable with. But no, that would be selfish. Charles had nothing to do with this and surely would be burdened by the level of Arthur's emotion.

"Nah, I'm good Charles. Thanks though, 'ppreciate the offer," with a salute, Arthur set off for the hills to the south where they were buried.

-

When he arrived at the spot, Arthur didn't say anything. Just cleared loose soil off the crosses, sat down in the dust, and looked up at the stars. After a few hours, he patted Boadicea and set off back towards camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going up to the mountains without wifi for a couple days so the next chapter won't be out till I get back (I will take a notebook and keep writing if I had have a free moment though). Thanks for everyone reading!


	7. Spelunking for Beginners

Arthur was still out of sorts the following few days, but on the third day he headed into town for the first time, Hosea at his side. Hosea seemed hyper aware of Arthur's mood, but gave him space – just rode at his side as a calming presence.

Blackwater was quite built up, pine timber structures still held their varnish and trendy theaters and shops lined the roads. After a quick perusal through the main stretch, the two men headed to the nearest bar to escape the midday heat. Arthur ordered a beer, then broke the silence, "so what were you thinkin’ Hosea? You've had an odd look the last few minutes, like somethin's whirlin' around up there." He punctuated this with a gentle knock to Hosea's skull.

"Well, I've been thinking on this for a while now, even back in Berrysberg. Only the setting wasn't right up there- too wet, not enough people looking to buy." He didn't offer much else, but Arthur wasn't offended. He returned to camp later that day, leaving Hosea to follow his leads in peace. Most of the gang was still in high spirits but Arthur headed straight for his wagon only to be stopped by the Dutch wandering into his space.

  
“Dutch?”

  
"Hello son. How you doing? Hosea’s worried," Dutch said, hovering above him.

"I'm fine, I was just with him," Dutch just stared back, giving him time, so he tried again, "this place just gives me a bad feeling Dutch, bad memories. Not in town, but out here in the fields- it’s like they’re suffocatin’ me."

"Can I sit?" Dutch asked, taking a seat after Arthur offered up a nod. "I know this is hard for you, we haven't been this way in ages, and it was an awful thing you went though." Arthur didn't mention how angry Dutch had been when he had learned of Isaac, how he had stormed around for days and forbidden Arthur from even leaving camp until Hosea was able to talk him down. That anger had dwindled over the years when he saw Arthur wasn't about to run out on the gang, disappearing altogether when Eliza and Isaac died years later, but Arthur hadn't forgot that lost look Dutch would get when Arthur set off to see them. "I just want you on board with us Arthur, maybe you should take some time to yourself?"

"What you mean? Where?"

"Well where do you usually go when you disappear for weeks? I just think a change of scenery would do you good."

"But we just got here."

"Yeah, and this is where we're going to stay for the foreseeable future. You're making people nervous, acting how you are. They don't understand why and are waiting for you to snap and punch someone again; John's still got a black eye from you the other day, you know. Your little camping trips usually help right?"

"I don't know, sometimes.”

Dutch scowled, clearly not getting the agreement he wanted. "Well do something then! I need you in the game son, and this isn't cutting it. What did you even do yesterday? Awful lot of sleeping it looked like. I'll give you a week." Arthur wasn't quite sure if he should continue objecting so didn't push it, Dutch was clearly trying to be understanding after giving Arthur a hard time about Eliza all those years back. It’s what he had said back then while watching Arthur head out, ‘best be back in week, say hi to the boy for me.’

"Yeah okay Dutch, I'll just leave then. To somewhere. "

"Good. But Arthur, don't be too long, I've got a meeting with a very important man next Saturday. Don't think you'll want to miss it." With a final pat to the knee, Dutch was gone, leaving Arthur at a loss. Dutch had gone to some weird lengths to force Arthur out of these moods- he'd had them since he was young - but he'd never been outright banished before. As he packed his bag, he felt eyes on his back and whipped around to find Micah Bell grinning at him fiercely, before darting off to meet up with Dutch. Micah was an odd fellow.

-

Boadicea was happy to get out of camp at least, always eager for open fields. Arthur nudged her faster into a gallop, dust trail popping up from under her hooves and after a bit of though Arthur dug out a few old maps. If he was going to be spending time out on his own, he may as well be productive. The first map showed a large, twisting rock hanging over a craggy forest. He wasn't sure, but the shading of the rock drew to mind the structures out west, closer to Tall Trees. A few hours out, he reduced his hurried pace for a more controlled trot- stopping here and there to inspect the surrounding rock formations.

  
The first night he found nothing and ended the day with a small cookfire tucked behind the trees, but the second day was more fruitful. The burial site for the small chest was directly below the twisting rock structure, haphazardly dug into the wet soil at the base of the cliff. The hardest part was getting down to the right spot without tumbling off the odd ledge, but he’d done it.

  
When Arthur grabbed the lid it disintegrated in his hand, clumps of wet dust falling all over his boots. Most of the money within was waterlogged past use- torn to bits- but a few solid coins remained and Arthur carefully collected them and deposited them in his saddlebag. It was about $15.00, not the treasure he had been hoping for, but not bad either- the map hadn't cost him anything.

That night he rustled through the rest of his map pile as he broke camp a second time. The next couple days passed in a blur and Arthur's satchel gained more modest additions of coins as well as the odd feather.

-

At the first sign of an intruder Arthur grabbed his gun and aimed, only to find himself face to face with Charles Smith. The man put his arms up, breathing out a sigh of relief as Arthur recognized him. "You're a hard man to find, Arthur," Charles said.

"Hello Charles. Can’t’ve been too hard- here you are.” Arthur settled back at the campfire and pointed Charles to another log, who nodded but made no move to sit down.

"Been tracking you for days."

"I've been well...fine, as you can see."

"Yeah- I see. Coming back to camp? Dutch was worried you wouldn’t make it back by Saturday, been pacing around a lot since you headed out. Seemed to think I'd know where you were and all but ordered me out on your trail when I told him I didn't. Micah’s been saying some weird things about what you're up to out here."

"Should have guessed it wouldn't be so easy," Arthur begun, but at Charles questioning gaze he just shrugged and continued, "I'll be back though. Soon, I promise."

"Okay Arthur, I'll let Dutch know. But hey, what have you been doing out here? I could put Micah in his place for you."

"Well that'd be a sight to see, but I don't got no big story. I'm just doin' a little treasure huntin' is all," Arthur handed the stack of papers over to Charles, who began to shift through the papers, squinting at a few crudely scrawled notes and sketched animals.

"I like the squirrel. Do these actually lead anywhere? I've seen some men peddling them, but figured it was some sort of scam."

From anyone else, Arthur would have been annoyed by the question, but Charles just seemed curious and Arthur couldn't bring himself to lash out. Instead, he grabbed his bag and dug out the week's plunder to show Charles. "Not always no, but when they do the findin’s can be pretty great. Found a couple diamond rings a while back, though this trip’s been a bit more modest," Arthur said. "Higher hopes for this next one though." He reached for the stack Charles was holding and pulled out a more beat up map covered in all manner of marks. "Thinkin' this is up north near Owanjila Dam. Reckon' I'll go on up there and try for it ‘fore comin' back- still got a couple days." Arthur readied himself for the next onslaught of requests to return to camp, but they didn't come. Instead, Charles took the yellowed map and held it to the light to get a better look.

"You want some help?"

"You actually wanna root around in the woods for coins with me? Took Sean with me one time and had to turn back after a couple hours due to his dramatic antics."

"I'll try and keep my dramatic antics to myself then," Charles said with a straight face. Arthur snorted and turned to break down his camp.

"Alright then Mr. Smith, I'll hold you to that."

-

It had begun to rain as they crested the last mountain to the dam but began searching among the rocky coves for any sign of human activity anyway. Arthur tried to take down a beaver, but the sound of the fire scared the whole family off- leading Charles to offer to teach him how to use a bow one day. Arthur laughed it off until realizing Charles was serious- then agreed, trying to picture how Charles would act as a teacher. They didn't find much that first afternoon though, and the way the storm clouds gathered didn't bode well for the next couple days. Miraculously the next morning was gray but clear.

"What do you think this note says? We've pretty much exhausted the rest of the hints," Charles asked, pointing to a smudged mark in the center of the map.

"I've been strugglin' with that one for days now. I just don't know," Arthur answered. They’d inspected the location the previous day finding nothing out of place, just more solid rock.

"Made? Have?" Charles said while trying to trace the mangled words. "Cave maybe?" Arthur frowned, that could be it- where better to hide your treasure than deep in a cave? He'd seen it before.

"It might look like 'cave,' but I don't see nothin' like that 'round here." They both considered the rock along the stretch of water. "Unless we're at the wrong elevation. Could be something a ways up- some hidden entrance. Or maybe-" he looked downwards.

"You thinking there could be an underwater cave down there?" Charles asked.

"Perhaps, you may be onto something. I’m not sure that would be the most pleasant exercise though- maybe we should just call it a day."

"You're sounding a bit dramatic there Arthur. It's just a bit of water," Charles said, but with no malice and after a glare, Arthur conceded to continuing. The map wasn't specific where the potential cave would be- the note itself scrawled across a large portion of the map, but it narrowed the options down. They made a point to hide their belongings well before stripping their gun belts off and heading down to the water. Arthur debated with himself about his boots, they were relatively new, but the thought of rooting around on a lake floor possibly covered in rusting nails or biting fish decided it for him. It wasn't as if his belongings weren't already soggy from all the rain.

After a good amount of trial and error, they settled into taking turns diving down beneath the surface and patting the rock wall as it extended down the basin. After an hour of this Arthur’s lungs were burning and they were no closer to finding any caves. Charles looked similarly tired but neither of them relented. Arthur did however, panic when Charles took too long to surface after diving down, and after a moment of indecision, he began the descent in search of his friend. He encountered the fleshy mass after a few seconds and less out a relieved gasp of air as they both surfaced.

"You okay?" Arthur asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Yeah, sorry. I found something; the wall gives way about fifteen feet down. I followed it a ways, but figured I'd better let you know first- before I just disappear."

"'Ppreciate that, I was startin' to think you weren't comin' back at all."

-

They elected to take a quick break before attempting the task at hand. Arthur had made a trip back to their campsite to retrieve a rope, not wanting to get divided in the dark depths again. They were more stumped about what to do for light, assuming there was an actual chamber in there, but settled on emptying a whisky bottle and stuffing it with matches and a small torch. Arthur roped the bottle to his jeans, and they prepared themselves.

The plan was for Charles to go first since he knew exactly where the opening was. After surfacing in the cave, he would give ten concurrent tugs of the rope to alert Arthur it was safe and ready for him. If they needed to communicate that they were alright, a simple assurance, five pulls. If the passage was too long and Charles doubted in his ability to get to fresh air, he’d give three pulls and head back. And finally if something went wrong and Charles was in danger, a single strong tug would alert Arthur to pull him back to safety.

By tying two ropes together they had enough length to secure the end to a tree outside the lake in case they needed to pull themselves out. The sky was very dark now, threatening a storm and Arthur was not looking forward to them traveling through it. Hopefully they'd be in and out of the cave before the rain decided to ruin their trip back to Blackwater.

"Ready Arthur? I was kidding earlier, we don't have to do this," Charles said. Arthur just clapped him on the shoulder and headed down to the shore. He was feeling more confident this time, now that they had safety measures. Charles followed behind and after a final tug of the rope he swam out to the proper location. The two men repeated their code to each other one last time before Charles went under.

-

The seconds seemed to creep by, and Arthur was beginning to second doubt himself about the true amount of time passing. But after what felt like a good amount, Arthur pulled on the rope five times to check in. To his relief he got an answer immediately, Charles was fine.  
But the two men had never really mentioned their own individual capacity for holding his breath. Was Charles even a strong swimmer? Probably, or he surely would’ve mentioned it? Arthur tried his best to push his worries down and trust Charles, but he soon felt himself checking in again automatically. He was prepared for response, knowing his fear to be groundless, but this time got no answer. Beginning to panic, Arthur once again pulled on the rope only to get no response. Could Charles have dropped the rope? But that made no sense as Charles had tied the rope to his waist so that very thing wouldn't happen. Arthur began to pull the rope back, having no problem hauling Charles to safety with the water’s help. Everything went smoothly for a few seconds until the rope suddenly went slack, somehow Charles was no longer tethered.

Arthur didn't even think, just took a huge breath and went under, using the rope as a guide of where to swim. He could feel the rock above him as he entered the cliff wall but only realized what had happened once he reached the end of the rope. The rock ceiling above him was jagged and sharp, him pulling up on the rope must have severed it, and sure enough, he could feel where the rope was frayed beyond repair.

Arthur continued forward, still comfortable in his air reserves, if panicked by the situation. The passageway was surprisingly long but it sloped upwards so if he gripped onto the tunnel flow and pushed, he could jet up the incline more quickly. Suddenly, his momentum screamed to a halt though, his head slamming into a tendril of rock down off the ceiling. He lost a bit of air and his head screamed out in pain but was able to recover himself. A few more feet and he knocked into the body, Charles presumably- who wasn't moving a muscle. Arthur's air was slowly depleting, and he desperately tried to decide which direction to go- backwards the way he came or forward into the unknown. The way back was a great distance though and he wasn’t sure he'd even be able to get to the rope with Charles in tow before his lungs gave out. So forward then, possibly to both of their deaths.

Going uphill with Charles's weight behind him was a bit of a struggle but the upwards force of the water helped a bit. When he finally broke the surface, Arthur let out gasping breath-never had breathing felt so good. But Charles was still and as Arthur dragged him up onto the landing, he was getting more and more afraid. A few hurried seconds later and the torch was lit, shining down onto a slack and blood covered face- Charles had indeed crashed into the same rock. Arthur was trembling as he arranged the body, memories of John in a similar position filtering into his mind unbidden. Of Hosea grabbing Arthur and shaking him while frantically asking him where the boy was, only to sprint to the lakeside after Arthur confessed. The memories then turned to Dutch yelling and butting in, and how they had coaxed the water from John's lungs by pressing down on him and helping him breathe.

Arthur was overwhelmed as he tried to recall just how they'd done it. He wasn't quite sure the right pace or if Charles was still alive enough to save, as he felt no sign of life from Charles whatsoever. But he had to try. He slammed his fist down on the man's chest and all but crawled over him to get a better angle. The stagnant water and blood streaked his face as he breathed for the man but regardless of his attempts, he felt no movement beneath him. He was getting tired, his lungs already burning from the sprint through the cave. He didn't stop though, images of John flashing through his head. Of the cry of relief Hosea let out as John finally jerked back to life. The stern lecture from Dutch to Arthur about him throwing Marston into the lake. Arthur thought he might be crying, thoughts of John and Charles, both dying while gasping for air dancing together through his mind.

When Charles himself lurched to the right and began coughing up water Arthur all but froze, arms falling slack onto the other man. After he broke out of his daze, gasping for air of his own, Arthur sprang into action- grabbing Charles and forcing him to lie on his side. More water was coughed up, pitifully onto the ground. Charles made no other movement and offered no words through the ordeal, just lay there breathing unsteadily. It was a good fifteen minutes till Charles even acknowledged him. Arthur just stared back, probably quite the sight himself.

"You- I thought you were dead," Arthur said. "Thought I’d killed you."

Charles begun to speak but he wasn't able to get anything out the first couple tries, his voice still hoarse. "What happened?" he finally managed to ask.

"You hit your head down there and the rope snapped- couldn't pull you back," Arthur said as he held the severed end up in the low firelight. Something dripped into his eyes and after swiping him hand through it, Arthur realized it was fresh blood. They must have matching headwounds from that blasted rock.

Charles managed to back himself up against a wall for more support before continuing, "you must have done something right. We're both here."

"Yeah, I just-"

Charles cut him off, "Arthur? Are you crying?" Charles sounded truly baffled, and Arthur couldn't blame him. Arthur hadn't felt so guilty and hopeless in years. Since John at the lakeside. Since Eliza and Isaac- their crosses still standing in testament.

"I'm sorry," Arthur let out, all his effort now put into keeping a straight face, even as more tears threatened to pop up.

Charles was still clearly in pain, but he crawled over to where Arthur crouched and grabbed him by the shoulders, searching his eyes out in the dim light. "I don't know quite what happened Arthur, but it's clear you saved me...I don’t… anyone else I've known probably would’ve just left me there without a second thought- there’s never been anyone…" Arthur finally met his eyes, sparked by the level of intensity in Charles's voice. "You didn't almost kill me Arthur, I chose to go through with all this, and you saved my life." Charles seemed to remember himself and began to pull away, but Arthur stopped him and clumsily pulled him into a hug.

"Glad you ain't dead," Arthur said, releasing him after a few moments to give in to a coughing fit of his own.

-

After taking a few minutes to catch their breath and compose themselves, the two men finally took a moment to inspect the cave. It was a large, sprawling thing with sharp corners sticking out in all directions from the mossy walls. They used extra caution while investigating and soon enough unearthed their goal. A large chest, half hidden behind and jutting rock- inside, a whole collection of loot, from coins to necklaces. They also found a selection of antiques, including a journal which Arthur grabbed excitedly, trying and failing to read in the dim light of the cave. One of the better hauls Arthur had stumbled across, though the mundane antiques were more likely destined from Arthur's cluttered chest.

When it came time to return to the water-the only route back to the surface-both men paused. Arthur filled Charles in about the structure of the passage and insisted on going first as he had a better knowledge of exactly where the dangerous rock was situated. Charles agreed and after a few more moments of contemplation, Arthur took off into the cold water with the end of the severed rope in his hand. While swimming downwards through the tunnel was a bit of a strain, they were both able to navigate through with no real issues this time. When they surfaced in the lake proper, one after the other, Arthur had never felt so light.

Despite their earlier plan of heading back to Blackwater the same day, they agreed that camping by the lakeside one more night wouldn't hurt. Charles didn't ask Arthur any more about what happened in the cave but they both told lighthearted tales from their youths while sharing some whisky until late into the night. If most of Arthur's were about John, the man would never be the wiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of all the great outdoor activities, underwater cave diving is at the top of my 'never do' list. Sounds terrifying. For a minute I had to consider if these two fools would be dumb enough to attempt it, but then I thought of all the suicidal schemes and plots in the game and concluded that they would. Especially Arthur.
> 
> Next chapter we go deep into Blackwater events.


	8. Blackwater Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a couple more chapters, this one is mostly just setting the stage. I decided to break it up as it was a massive chapter. This chapter's got a bit of Micah being infuriating, so sorry if you can't stand the guy (I can't either).

Arthur returned to camp lighter and more engaged. If some the folks gave him a wide berth or stumbled over their greeting to him, Arthur just assumed they were confused by the sudden absence- something that had noticeably led to a dwindling firewood pile and food backlog. Dutch nodded to him but didn’t hit him with the expected barrage of questions and plans about the upcoming meeting. Arthur supposed he would just check in later after unpacking.

Hosea however, was waiting for him on his cot. Arthur dropped the bundle of antiques on Hosea's lap in welcome; he had given the weird ceramic horse to Charles after the man had insulted the thing, but the rest of the junk was his to deal with. "What can I do for you Hosea? Any further along on that lead you had the other day?" Hosea got the knot of the pack open, and after an unimpressed look at the contents, jumped into his tale.

"Oh yes Arthur, there's something there alright. Apparently my idea was so grand someone else had already moved in and done it! Seems to have made a fortune too."

"Well that's too bad, what was it anyway?" Arthur asked, sitting down next to Hosea.

"Real estate."

"Like houses? I'll be needin' more than that to properly appreciate your genius."

"Of course, but where to start… I first caught wind of the scam when I strolled into a real estate firm as Edison Tonks, a half-blind and hardly literate fool, ready to learn to raise goats in the west. Basically, someone I'd have you play, but you were out so I had to make due. Just had to see how the place operated before I could attempt to rig something myself. Given that I was playing an idiotic fellow, the one man, Leads I think it was, hardly even put up a front. These men are scamming folks, selling them land that doesn't exist, or overcharging on technicalities, offering fraudulent loans. Had to consult with Strauss after that, my mind was spinning. So yeah, my idea was taken- if implemented much more complexly than I ever considered." Hosea finally took a breath and gave Arthur a chance to jump in.

"Sorry to hear that Hosea, maybe it's for the best though. Work like that, cheatin’ people outta their whole lives- it don't feel too good. And I would know."

"No Arthur, you don't understand. It's perfect! Those miserable scammers do all the hard work and then we swoop in and relieve them of their efforts. It's like in the old days, stealing from thieves, making Blackwater a more honest place in the process."

"Ah, I see." Arthur didn't quite see but he was sure Hosea would keep talking if he nodded along.

"All we have to do is catch them in the act and sniff out their stash. Trouble is, they're smart folks and I'm guessing they aren't just hiding their riches behind the wall this time- these men most likely have everything tucked away in the bank or heavily guarded compound. Who knows, maybe even some of bankers or law are part of the plot."

Arthur couldn’t help but be impressed with the man- in both his lead and his ambition. "This sounds big Hosea, really big. How many people do you want on this thing?"

"We'd better keep our involvement low, wouldn't want to tip off the wrong person. Maybe a team of three, four maybe? I was thinking Strauss for sure- he’s already agreed and we're working through the best way to get him an in with the scammers. There's no guarantee they'll work with a stranger but it couldn't hurt to try- they seemed a little light on staff."

"And what'll you have me doing? I'm not too knowledgeable 'bout this type of stuff," Arthur asked.

"You'll come in once the money is out in the open. That's the ultimate goal- locate the money, then collect it, and you’re just fellow for that, according to Strauss at least. Also, I could use you for stalking and information gathering. What I saw was surely just a sliver of the whole picture, a few passing words picked up by an idiot out for land."

Arthur agreed readily to the job, unspecific role and all. He always liked working with Hosea and his own involvement sounded low enough to juggle with whatever Dutch had planned.

When Strauss joined them later, the planning begun in earnest. They decided the sooner Strauss could get in the better, as it could be a while before he was trusted with anything. The plan wasn't finalized, and Arthur walked away with more questions than answers, but the groundwork was set and Hosea had a gleam in his eyes. This job just might be something.

By the time they were finished and Arthur headed out to find Dutch, he was feeling better than he had in days, the yellow grass sprouting around camp giving only the slightest tug on his memories. Thoughts of hunting and shopping in town were also bubbling up for the first time since arriving in Blackwater, as if a switch had been flipped and he was finally awake. The man in question was relaxing by his tent, seemingly deep in thought.

“Hey Dutch,” Arthur said.

Dutch didn’t seem surprised to see him and just gestured to the chair opposite to him. “Have a seat Arthur.” Which he did, leveling Dutch with an inquiring stare.

“You said we have a meetin’ tomorrow, what do I need to know?”

“I did, glad Charles could find you. Took him a while, you must have been holed up well, he’s the best tracker we’ve got.” Now Dutch was the one with the inquiring eyes but Arthur wasn’t sure what answer the man was fishing for.

“Not really, he just helped me with a job is all- money’s all in the box.”

“Oh, that’s good- guess I was right to send the man.” Arthur was already tired of this conversation and almost snapped back that he had been working plenty hard even before Charles showed, but he resisted, not wanting to make this little conversation any more awkward.

“That he is, doubled what I had found on my own.” There, an unthreatening way to get his point across. But Dutch just frowned.

“And how are you feeling?”

“Fine. Good in fact, I already talked to Hosea about his job. A real estate thing down in town. He thinks there could be some real money in it too.”

“Yeah, he mentioned something like that.”

“So, the job?” He asked, feeling uncomfortable with Dutch’s concerned gaze and pointed questions.

“Yeah the job. I think there is some serious money on a ferry coming through this area. Got some tips.”

“Sounds…promising. What else?”

“You sure you’re up for both these jobs? I’ve been doing some thinking since sending Charles off after you. And I think maybe you should just focus on one thing right now.” What? This was not the same Dutch who always put Arthur’s name down first regardless.

“What? I’m fine Dutch.”

“Yeah okay son, I believe you and I’m glad. We’ll get more information tomorrow.” And with a pat on the back, Dutch rose and headed other to the little group that had formed around the fire- Javier, the Callender boys, and Micah.

When Arthur again sought Dutch out about the meeting the following morning, Dutch informed him that he wouldn't be necessary on the job- that he already had a good group of men and he didn't want Arthur distracted by two major plots. Nobody else was doing both either, he was quick to add as Arthur took a moment to process. A reiteration of the night before, with no room for dissent.

Arthur wouldn’t beg or hound Dutch, if this really was his call, Arthur would fall in line. But he was confused and irritated. As Dutch crossed his arms and continued on in his speech, Arthur couldn’t help but notice his distance from the man, for the first time since he was fourteen and catapulted into his new caretakers’ plots.

There was no such distance between Micah and Dutch tonight though, and Arthur couldn’t help his subtle glances at the two of them- talking well into the night, cigars in hand. It wasn't just Dutch either, falling under the man's spell. The Callender boys seemed hooked, the older man encouraging the wilder of their whims. But he’d only been with them a couple months, hardly enough time to even begin to inspire trust. Arthur just and stayed out of the man's way- his earlier unsuccessful attempts to loosen Micah's only seeming to push him closer to Dutch. Seemed like Micah was out to finally prove himself on a major job, not just homestead robberies and pickpocketing. But Arthur had a job of his own to focus on and as the days passed, Arthur tried to put the ferry job and Micah out of his mind.

-

Micah didn't make it easy though, always finding little ways to irk him. Today it was by slumping against a tree to the side of Arthur as he chopped firewood. He chewed on some jerky, leisurely, legs extended in front of him. "So Arthur, why is it that you're still up here, chopping wood like a servant when you've been with these boys for years? Surely you’ve earned a higher place at Dutch's table than that?"

"What you want? I'm choppin' cause we need wood and none of you other lazy bastards has it in you to lift the axe," Arthur said, not even looking over at the man while slamming the axe down on the next piece of wood.

"I'm just saying Morgan, you need to sell yourself more- market your skills. Get past all this nonsense."

"That what you've been doing, 'selling yourself,' Micah? Didn't imagine anyone would take you up on that- figured all the women here would pay you to stay away from ‘em."

"See, this is what I mean- Arthur Morgan, always out to make enemies. Content to cut wood in a corner all day. You know, I put a word in for you about the job. Told Dutch you were solid but here we are...guess he don't want to overwork you while you're feeling so unstable. So in a way, he's looking out for you."

Arthur finally raised his sights to the man beside him. "You wanna see unstable Micah?" Arthur asked, angry and tired from the work.

"What, you gonna hit me with that axe Morgan? Spilt my skull open in the middle of camp? Right in front of little Jack?" Micah asked, stretching back against the tree again with a yawn. "Maybe you shouldn't even get woodcutting privileges, maybe just leave it too that emotionless darkie over there. He also seems content enough puttering around camp doing chores like a woman and I'm sure he'd fall right in line if it's you askin'."

When Arthur threw the axe down and wheeled around but, Micah just smiled up at him- not even attempting to ready himself for a fight. He wanted to get pummeled it seemed, but Arthur was seeing red and before he knew it, Micah was on his feet, pinned to the tree by the neck. His grin was even bigger now, boring into Arthur's face.

He heard, "Arthur!" barked out from across the camp. Dutch of course. Arthur dropped his arm, but not until digging his fingers into Micah’s neck in a final warning, letting a coughing and gasping Micah slump down from the tree. He stalked off- not looking back at either man, but couldn’t help the satisfaction he got from the pained sounds.

-

Later that day Arthur was still angry about the argument and unsure what he was going to do about it, hunched over his journal as he was.

“Hey Arthur, can I get a word real fast?” Arthur looked up from where he was sketching to see Javier, looking a bit uncomfortable and not fully meeting his eyes.

“Sure Javier. Here? Or maybe back by the horses?” Arthur asked, gesturing to the more private nook by Boadicea, clued in that Javier may not want an audience for whatever this was.

“Yeah, let’s go with the horses.” They headed off and got as comfortable as they could on the tree stumps littering the area.

“What’d you want to talk ‘bout Javier?”

“Well, this is a bit awkward given everything that happened but well, but I thought you have a right to know what’s going on.”

“Okay Javier, you’ll have to start over. I’ve got no idea what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”  
Javier again looked embarrassed by clarified, “I mean about what Micah saw? I know something’s been up with you but you’ve always been solid before and Dutch knows it. Truly, he was real broken up about um…”

“What?”

“Kicking you off the job I mean, he didn’t want to do it.” And there it was, Dutch had not only kicked him off the job but others knew about it. “I heard what Micah said earlier- I think a few folks did- but that’s only the literal definition of what went down and he was being an asshole, dragging Charles into it. Dutch just wanted you to have some space and not have to worry too much.” So now Arthur’s mental stability was on the line, folks saw him as weak after years of never once breaking down or abandoning his post?

“Sorry, I’m still not following. What exactly did that snake say he saw?”

“Oh well, he said you set off from camp a week or so back when we first arrived.”

“I did, weren’t none of his business though.”

“Well, he followed you Arthur. Not right, even Dutch worked the man over for doing that. He was real mad on your behalf. But Micah saw the crosses there and figured what had happened.” Arthur was once again seeing red. Micah had followed him to that sacred place and watched him mourn the death of his child and friend? How dare he? Javier continued, “and he mentioned your…what you did.”

Arthur’s voice was ice. “And what did he see me do?”

“It’s perfectly normal Arthur, none of us blamed you for it at all. Hell, if I ever had a kid, I’d have probably done worse. It’s just Dutch was real broken up about it, said it was his own fault of something, what happened. That you deserved a break after everything and needed to rest. Talked about you like you were his own son. And it was just me and Dutch there so it’s not like the whole camp heard or anything.”

“I don’t know what he said I did, but I can tell you now- it ain’t true. I went up there and spent some time lookin’ up at the stars then came back.”

“Oh well… he was saying some things. Like you broke down and was hurting yourself or something.” Javier looked up and seemed to shrink back at Arthur’s anger. “Sorry Arthur, I wasn’t trying to gossip or anything, I’m on your side. And I can tell you now, it wasn’t Micah Bell that was asking for you to come with us.”

Arthur lost some of his steam as Javier looked more and more desperate to make things right between them. “Shit, I’m not mad at you Javier, just frustrated. Micah’s a liar but at least I know what the hell’s goin’ on ‘round here. Why people are actin’ so odd. Glad you told me, even if that ain’t what happened.”

“No problem. Just wanted to set the record straight.”

Arthur gave Javier a pat on the shoulder and tried to look less threatening for his return to camp. He could demand Javier believe him all night and it wouldn’t change anything- Javier may be on his side as a friend, but it seems like folk’s opinions on what went down that night were set in stone. Micah had played him and Dutch as fools. And for what? More glory from a job falling onto his own slimy shoulders?

-

  
Over the next few weeks, Arthur dove into his work with unbridled intensity, not acting out or giving anyone a chance to question or pity him. He didn’t know how far the story went but nobody else had pulled him aside so maybe it wasn’t as far reaching as he’d feared. Regardless, he’d show Dutch that he was feeling better and up for work through example and hopefully squash any doubts on that front. Arthur continued to bring in money for the camp in the meantime- sometimes focusing on stalking the real estate scammers, other days going off on his own and earning change through the odd job- some of them even legal.

He also made a point to stay away from Micah but was friendly enough towards Dutch, the pinnacle of his normal self. He even stopped heading off from camp to drink or hunt. When Charles sought him out, bow in hand and offered to follow through with his offer of hunting lessons, he had to refuse. That would just remind folks of the last time he’d taken off- even if it had been Dutch’s doing.

“How about some other time Charles? Bit busy with the real estate job tonight,” he said, trying not to feel too guilty. Charles didn’t seem too broken up.

“Next time then?”

“Sure Charles, we’ll get a chance.”

_It's good to be sleeping in a bed from time to time and living a more civilized life after so log under canvas, but I do not particularly like being near town. Hosea and I are onto something. Something pretty big- might be a lot of money coming in to do with a real estate scam Hosea thinks he discovered. The perfect crime we think- one where we rob crooks. We are being real careful._   
_It's fun working with Hosea again. The man is an artist of nonsense. Even if nothing comes of it, we are having an amusing enough time._

-

Despite the whole camp’s eagerness, the ferry was still about a month out and the day-to-day thieving, scamming, and general law breaking took up the bulk of folk’s attention- especially those not on either of the big jobs. As they’d hoped, Strauss was offered a job at the real estate agency a few days after his inquiry and demonstration of both immaculate bookkeeping skills and a proclivity for questionable sales tactics. Strauss reported that while they made no formal mention of any illegal activities, they had offered praise to the man for his talents and seemed happy enough to throw their busywork at him.

After a few weeks of settling into his new role, Strauss affirmed the company was keeping their money in Blackwater Bank, and that if there were a few red flags giving pause to some of the banker’s cooperativeness with their venture, it was all just misplaced bureaucratic nonsense. Strauss did figure it was unusual though, a bank holding out on a client.

Arthur himself was surveilling four men Strauss had identified as part of the scheme. They included the sole three employees of the Oak Valley real estate company Peter Leads, Clarence Baker, and Vincent Cowl and one Blackwater banker, Michael Marvson. Arthur determined, through the thankless job of shimmying under the floorboards of Baker’s home four days in a row, that three of his young cousins were also involved- serving as moles in the fraudulent auctions, there to push up the price on nonexistent estates.

He also learned that this crew had swept through a whole line of towns, moving on about every six months to evade the law. They'd been here about four according to one of the wife's tales, so another month or two and the party would be out. Would that mean they'd withdraw money first or were the accounts stable under a safe name with their banker friend? When he asked Strauss and Hosea about it later neither man was sure, but Strauss agreed to dig in more.

The stalking was generally easy enough, but it was a lengthy process that needed a little luck. Arthur felt he was stumbling closer and closer to a more complete image, as he headed out of a surprisingly empty camp- the gang must be sprinkled across the town again.

The streets were already dark by the time he arrived, and after waiting for what seemed like hours, nursing a single drink at the saloon, the hours was finally right. He’d seen a few gang members stroll by the saloon- it being a central point in town- but he elected to stay hidden away in his corner, not too eager to converse with Micah, Bill, or Uncle.

Tonight, his marks were Peter Leads and Vincent Cowl. The two men had planned a meeting in front of Strauss the day prior. It had seemed odd at the time though, getting coffee at one man's house late on a Sunday- Strauss said it almost sounded like code for something. Arthur was mentally preparing himself for the spiderwebs and muscle cramps of another long night of monitoring, when he saw a fourth gang member dart past the saloon. He headed to the door, in pursuit.

"Hey, Char-," he called, but the man just turned and put a finger to his lips and Arthur shut up. Two lawmen ran past Arthur and turned down alley Charles had veered into just seconds before. From Arthur's previous skulking about the town he knew it was a dead end so he hurried over himself, gun drawn and ready to fight.

Just as he prepared to make his entrance though he heard one man say, "Guess he didn't go this way. I could've sworn he did... maybe we hit the whisky too hard back there." Arthur quickly holstered his gun and tried to look nonchalant- leaning up against the wall of the shop, cigarette in hard. The two men didn't even look his way as they hurried off to the next alley together. "Maybe it was this one, the mist is just distortin' things. Come on." And they were gone.

Arthur peered down the alley himself, nothing. "Charles? You here?" he asked the empty space and startled badly when the voice responded.

"Yeah, I'm up here."

Sure enough, there was Charles, hunched behind a big pot on the second story balcony, hugging the shadows in just a way to shield himself almost completely from view. "There you are. Think those men are long gone now, if you wanna come down," Arthur said, giving one last glance back to the next alley. Charles landed next to him. "What they catch you at?"

"Nothing much, just the usual." Arthur didn't push it but considered the other man. He hadn't been lying all those months back about his affinity for stealth. Well, maybe Charles would want a job complimenting it.

"You free now? I think I've got somethin'"

"I could be. I was just gonna to call it a night but I'm sure someone else can hold down guard duty a little while. Why?"

"I’m stalking these two men and it might be good to have a second pair of eyes." Arthur didn't mention that he mostly asked to be saved from the boredom of sitting alone all night.

"Yeah, I'll help. What do I need to know?" Arthur didn't bother to mention many details due to time, just that he needed to see what these two men were up to. They then made off for the western edge of town where the men were set to meet. The spot was just another alleyway, a few doors down from Leads’s apartment. After a good twenty minutes of waiting for the men to show, they finally reached the meet, greeting each other quietly. Then they just stood there, shoulder-to-shoulder, looking nervous.

After another few minutes of waiting, two more figures appeared- tall women with bright red lips and garish dresses. "Hey boys," the first lady cooed, running her fingers over Mason's vest. More low murmuring passed between the group but Arthur didn't catch a word of it, so caught off guard. Arthur felt a swat himself and jumped, looking back at Charles's inquisitive expression.

"This is what you wanted help with?" Charles whispered softly and Arthur could only hope the dim light covered up his own red face. Apparently, it didn't as Charles looked at him and had to suppress a laugh.

Arthur was shocked out of his stupor as Vincent said, "not here, we can talk inside- this is serious." The soft touches and words seemed to cut off immediately and when they all walked off together down the alleyway to their destination, they were silent.

"Well now I'm even more confused. Just what kind of job is this Arthur?" Charles asked.

"Hosea's job- scamming scammers. Let's follow them, we might learn something from this," Arthur replied, reassured by Vincent's actions that this might yield some good information, it didn't seem so mundane as a couple of whores making their rounds.

"Not sure I want to learn whatever’s going down in there," Charles said but made no move to leave.

"How bad could it be Charles, let's go."

It took a while to find a good entry point to the building, Arthur really should have scoped out the place earlier. But with Charles's help they were able to target an upstairs window in the complex and got through without alerting anyone to their presence. The closest they could get was a large linen closet with a shared vent to the apartment in question. The voices were muffled and quiet so they couldn't catch every word, but it was something, and as Arthur had been starting to suspect- they were talking business.

"We'll need more than that to go on if we're going to put our necks on the line. These men have no problems slamming us around, even in their best moods you understand." A woman’s voice, clipped but audible.

"I know but..." the words were too soft to hear but Arthur thought it must be Vincent, the most careful of the party. "Bank’s giving us trouble… tipped them off… federal agent."

"Don’t worry about any of that ladies, you’ll be on the ground, away from all that," another louder voice, Leads this time, "all you gotta do is wave your hips around and giggle. Shouldn't be too hard- spew a few lines about these places into their ears. With all the booze and women these fools will be all but throwing their pocket books around." And after a pause, "and that means to you ladies too. It's mutually beneficial."

Although some other phrases and plots seemed to also be thrown around, neither men could decipher any more details. When the group decided to break up, the men to discuss things further and the women to report to their own, Charles and Arthur decided to split up too. Charles to go after the ladies and Arthur to wait there. Arthur quickly filled Charles in about specific information to look out for and the man was off.

Arthur stayed tucked away, resting on laundry for a good three hours but neither man said much else of use. The two men acted rigidly though, each line of conversation coming out more dissenting than the previous one. These men might be partners, but they weren’t friends. Vincent was clearly the leader of the two though, the other man pushing to a point but yielding each time tensions rose. A few more mentions about the bank bled through the walls, but nothing else. After Vincent headed out, Arthur made his own escape.

Back at camp Charles was already talking to Hosea about their findings when Arthur arrived. From all the work gossip from Strauss and sleuthing by the rest of them, the basic plan was starting to emerge. Arthur was very uncomfortable when he approached Karen about a possible part to play in the coming job but she didn't even blink an eye at the offer. "Of course I want to play a workin’ lady on Hosea's big house plot, do you even know me Arthur?" And that was that, Karen was in.

-

They’d been holed up in Blackwater for almost two months now, and finally their plans were moving it seemed. Strauss had formally been told of the auction only a couple weeks out, having been trusted to help with the business but only ever on the legal side. Unethical sure, but when it came to hard crime, there was an invisible wall the man couldn't cross. But when Strauss suggested that the Oak Valley Real Estate Company would have much more business if they waited for the Skirted Lady ferry boat to land, filled with wealthy patrons ready to spend a buck, who were they to argue? Arthur saw Strauss running back and forth between Hosea, and Dutch, and his new employers like a rat in a maze- finally in his element. It was impressive if a bit gross, how efficiently Strauss played this game.

And it was settled, the auction would take place just around the time the ferry was in port and the two jobs would run concurrently. Hosea didn't care to strip money from the ferry clientele as Dutch already had his sights on them, but that would ensure both jobs be achieved, supposing things went south and the gang had to move out quickly.

The mood of the camp was weird, in the way it always was before a job. Patience turning to anticipation. They still had two weeks before the jobs but for the first time, they had an official timeline and the frameworks of two pretty rotund plans. The party that resulted was expected.

What started as drinks and games soon escalated to dancing and wild games, in Lenny’s case, knives. Arthur tried- on two separate occasions- to pull them out of his hands before relenting, easing himself at the table to participate himself.

“That’s better Arthur, I was certain you were just pulling them knives away because you were so jealous of my powers?”

“Powers ey? Of what, stabbing yourself through the hand?”

Lenny held up both hands proudly, slowly turning them from front to back. “You see any stab wounds there?” Arthur did not. “I’m a professional player Arthur and the booze just helps me concentrate. See all the money I’ve earned?” He took a sip to demonstrate and began his run, knife darting between his digits in a surprisingly calculated rhythm. And with a final flourish, “there. Wasn’t too hard.”

“Well, well, well. You ain’t half bad Lenny,” Arthur said, inching towards the edge of his seat. “Don’t think I could beat that little show if I were two years sober.” Lenny was practically glowing at the praise, and drunk enough that when he realized Arthur had grabbed his pile of earnings and dashed off it was far to late.

“Arthur! How could you?” he called out, trotting after the hightailing man. Lenny was easy to avoid though, his mild, nonsensical insults betraying his location.

Arthur found himself at Pearson’s wagon, drinking his fourth beer by the time Lenny finally caught up to him. “Here Lenny, think you dropped something,” the said, taking a sip before launching the wad at Lenny. Lenny couldn’t help his drunken spluttering, trying to catch the bills.

“Such a bully, what’d I ever do to deserve such treatments.”

“Ah nothin’ Lenny, I’m just a mean bastard is all. Why don’t you go find Jenny? She’s lookin’ pretty lonesome other there. All by herself.” After an embarrassed look, Lenny headed off.

As soon as he was out of reach of Arthur though, he turned his head to get out a final jab. “You’re the worst loser I ever seen!”

“What? I ain’t even play so how could’ I’ve’ lost?” Arthur watched Lenny walk away for a minute before settling into his own thoughts.

“You really are a bully Arthur, I’m shocked.” Arthur spun around to find Charles leaned up against a tree- watching him. For once the man had a beer in his hand, though his shotgun was strapped to his back, always ready to work.

“What can I say, I’m really starting to look up to Micah. He’s inspiring Charles, wouldn’t you say?”

“Can’t say I would, how many of those have you had?”

“Just four. I think.”

“Hmmm, I know you’re a happy drunk but the only thing that man inspires in me is disgust.” The man looked amused enough at Arthur’s antics but even as drunk as he was, Arthur didn’t miss the disgust in Charles eyes as he pulled his eyes to Micah.

“But look at him over there Charles. With his stupid little mustache, damn that’s a stupid mustache. Maybe I should go over there and just cut it off. Or just stab him, that might please you better,” Arthur couldn’t help the laughter welling up but Charles was now looking very concerned and glancing around them, seemingly relieved nobody reacted to Arthur’s threat.

“No, that might not be wise. Dutch seems awfully taken with the man,” Charles said. Sure enough, Micah was at Dutch’s side, laughing about something himself.

“I guess, make no sense.” Arthur felt himself sobering up in face of Charles’s words so he elected to open his satchel and find a remedy. “Hey Charles? You ever had moonshine. Charles seemed to relax and leaned back against his tree.

“Once or twice, seems like a good way to end up passed out in a ditch somewhere.”

“You speaking from experience?”

“Perhaps. Don’t make a habit of drinking much though.”

“I can tell, but when’s the next time you’ll have an opportunity like this? To try…” he trailed off to read the handwritten charcoal label on the bottle, “…Widow’s Folly, 140 proof, unflavored. That’s definitely not right though, it’s got a flavor I’d say.”

“You add that flavor to your four beers then?”

“Nothin’ like that. I saved this just for you.”

“I’m sure.” But Charles accepted the offered bottle and took a hesitant smell, and then sip. He held up better than Arthur was expecting, and in his own drunkenness, hoping for. Charles handed the bottle back quickly though and Arthur took a sip of his own, trying his best to match Charles’s skill.

After a small cough Arthur looked up at Charles and grinned, “you said you were gonna teach me to hunt with a bow, right? What about now? I’m free.” Charles just gaped back.

“Oh you’re definitely free right now Arthur, but no, I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“Coward.”

“Definitely, I’d be terrified to see you with any sort of weapon right now.”

“And wha ‘bout you, you’re holdin’ that sawed off and drinkin’ the same stuff’ a me.”

“Wait here,” Charles said, beginning to head off. Arthur didn’t manage to stop his arm in time, the thing grabbing onto Charles sleeve.

“You just gonna leave me here Mr. Shmith?”

Charles had always seemed like a patient type, but clearly even he had his limits, and could only steal another sip from the bottle before responding. “I’m just going to put this gun down before you grab it off me to try and hunt some random deer, or Micah.” Arthur nodded and released him. That made sense, he really did hate Micah. Charles was back in front of him before he could brink though, “you good there? You look a little woozy?”

“I’m great Charles, never better. Let’s go for a walk.”

Charles seemed to consider a moment before shrugging, “sure, sounds better than hunting at least.”

“Perfect, let’s go,” Arthur looked across the uniform prairie spanning out before them, “that way. You’d better hold onto this though.” Charles accepted the offering shoved into his hands and followed along. Arthur knew he was rambling on about something or other due to the quiet laughs and words from Charles, but he wasn’t sure the details.

He did however, recognize the stars above him, from his place on the ground. When had that happened?

“You just going to stay there?”

“I think that’s best Jarles.”

“Okay then.” Arthur more heard than saw Charles lay down off to the side of him, his eyes glued to the stars above. For a few peaceful minutes they both just stared into the expanse.

“Awfully pretty, ain’t they?” Arthur asked the open air.

“Yeah, I like it out here. In the open like this, reminds me of when I was young,” replied Charles.

“You know any of them star pictures then?”

“Yeah, I know a few. Was a long time ago though,” Charles said, and after a quiet minute, Arthur heard the cork of the moonshine pop open. “My mother shared them with me, her people saw all kinds of things up there. Wish I could remember more of it but here, see that star up ahead?” Arthur sighed in answer and watched Charles’s arm tracing patterns in the sky.

“That’s beautiful, wish I learned something like that. John used to swear that one over there. No further up, looked like a dick but that’s about it.” Charles didn’t respond. “Ah, I didn’t mean nothin’ by that of course. It’s beautiful what ya been tellin’ me, I really do ‘ppreciate you sharin’ you culture with someone like me, I’m just... John’s an idiot…” Arthur trailed off in a panic but as he turned to Charles, his friend was just looking at him with a fond expression. When they met eyes, they both careened into fits of laughter, on and on to the point that Arthur hardly knew why he was laughing.

“Yeah, that’s really idiotic Arthur,” Charles finally said, “that doesn’t look anything like a dick, John must be blind.” They kept watching the skies for a while.

“You gonna move on from here? Know you said ya run alone most’a’va time.” It was quiet again and Arthur worried he had been too direct, and maybe he didn’t want the answer to that question.

“No,” Charles finally replied, “I don’t think so.”

-

Arthur wasn’t sure how long they’d been out there but the bottle was noticeably emptier and Charles looked pretty gone himself.

“What you boys doing all the way out here?” A man had appeared. Sounded like Dutch maybe.  
“Dying. We jus dying down here -utch, don’t mind me.”

“Okay son, Charles. Just come back to camp when you’re finished, not safe to sleep out here.” Footsteps trailed away from them.

The grass really was comfortable, even in is coarseness, but when Arthur felt himself being pulled to his feet and back across the prairie and towards camp, he didn’t object.


	9. Blackwater Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there, just one more chapter after this!

The day of the auction and ferry job was stifling hot, the tension at camp at an all-time high. But it was a good tension, everyone was excited and ready to jump into action. The group had divided into three teams; Hosea and his crew, Dutch and his, and the remaining gang members, who would see to the camp and ensure everything was in order. They always did this before big jobs- not a full breakdown, but a cleaning and organizing of their effects. 

Arthur went on a quick ride ahead of the day's chaos to clear his head, spurring Boadicea on through the prairie, drawing the odd tree in his journal from her back. After she'd been given a quick watering in a nearby stream and Arthur had a chance to wet his feet in the currents, Arthur was back in position, Karen, Hosea, and Strauss by his side. Dutch's team hung back for later, but Charles rode with them into town, his job was to monitor law movement and report to either group if problems were imminent. 

"Everyone ready?" Hosea asked around the group.

"As much as we'll ever be," Arthur said, and Strauss nodded along. 

"If anything goes south, we should head north towards Strawberry. Except for one of us who'll head back to camp and warn people. Arthur, you willing?"

"Course Hosea, if it comes to that, I'll get 'em out."

"Good. Let's ride!" 

Arthur saluted to Charles when he broke off from the group and rode up to Hosea.

"Lot's of folk out today, huh?" Arthur asked him.

"Looks like it, must be excited for the celebration, even if they aren't in the market for a new house," Hosea said. Sure enough, the closer they got to the massive tent set up just north of Blackwater, the more people flocked about- some in tailcoats and top hats, some in simple rags. It almost appeared a stadium with the way people were packed together, and food vendors had taken it upon themselves to establish their colorful carts. Hosea joined the masses, another buyer looking for a home. 

Near the podium where Vincent would soon be reining was a small table, guards at both sides, stacks of paperwork strewn about. All manner of deeds and contracts and loan paperwork, all tended to by a small collection of men in crisp suits. Strauss joined the men at the table with a tight smile and Arthur scoped out the rest of the plot. The men seemed deep in conversation over the next few minutes and a younger man soon darted off. An hour later and the crowds looked like they were melting, the podium still empty. 

"Strauss, what's the hold up?" Arthur asked as they both used tending to their horses an excuse to speak. 

"The bank is stalling. My associates didn't mention details, but it must be about their money withdrawal- I wouldn’t be surprised if the bank is catching on. A withdrawal that size is a hard sell at the best of times. Sounds like Vincent’s been at it for days, trying to get the money, but someone’s getting in the way."

"Not good, I need the money outta there if I’m gonna take it. Somehow, I don’t think robbin’ a bank outright is in Hosea’s plan. Were we right though? They makin’ to take cash upfront and disappear with it before these folks collect?"

"That’s what it’s looking like, but with the hold up over the withdrawal, I think Vincent’s scared to make his move. Sent a boy off to see what’s going on, maybe you should follow," Strauss said. 

The real estate company had a couple show houses up north- empty, stunning things they'd take people up to visit. Arthur had even ridden up to one of them to see it for himself after Strauss’s tip. It was only about a two-hour ride and Arthur had been floored by the place- so far from anything him or the gang would ever have. All these fools must be drooling over the same few houses and lots. The scammers would need to get the money out before folk noticed they had bought blanks though, Arthur could almost see the pandemonium of dozens of people, all arriving at the same estate, ready to move in. 

Strauss scurried off and Arthur was left alone with Boadicea. It had quickly become apparent that most of the whores were being diverted to the bank instead of the auction- according to Karen’s assessment the day before, to 'celebrate' one of the men's birthdays. Presumably the nefarious banker Marvson’s. She seemed convinced that in the confusion of skin and booze the transfer would slip by and the money released. A last-minute attempt by the scammers to hurry the process along. 

-

Arthur headed out towards the bank as Strauss had suggested, only to run face first into his target outside the building. Karen's lipstick was smudged and she was sporting a bloody nose. 

"Karen, what happened? That don't look too good," Arthur asked, pulling out a clean handkerchief. She put it to her nose while launching into her tale. 

"Half the bankers in there may as well be dead they're so drunk. And I may have locked a man in the cellar..."

"Thing's went south then?"

"No not quite," Karen looked around and grabbed Arthur by the elbow, "let's get off the road. Over there, by the side the building." When they were in a better position behind a large tree, she continued. “None of the others know 'bout him, he just caught on is all, and I had to do something. Told the rest he was puking out back.”

"So they'll accept the withdrawal?"

"As a collective I’m not so sure, they were leaning toward accepting but some Milton man apparently put some fear in ‘em, they’re all too scared to make a move. Marvson’s pushin’ hard for it but who knows? Everyone's kinda distracted right now. Reckon he’s set to release it himself though, if it comes to it. Heard him talkin’ to Leads an hour or so ago. But it's not what we thought Arthur, he'll only hand over it to Vincent himself. He all but fought Leads over that."

"Shit, so we'll have to wait for the auction to finish? That can't be right. I could just go in there are threaten the guy, take his key,” Arthur said.

"It's not a key, it's a combination and our banker friend’s hiding out in the vault till Vincent shows himself. Marvson’s not taking any risks by sneaking it out without the guy, besides, there’s a bank guard outside of the vault, he can’t just stroll out carrying a load of cash with no client.” Karen was clearly annoyed at all the complications but she hurried to finish her thoughts. “Makes me think Vincent don't trust his men," Karen said.

Arthur absorbed the new information before he spoke. "There was a weird tension with Leads. Watched them drink coffee together through a closet vent and they seemed off... Was hopin’ we'd have the cash before the auction was even over, but we can deal with this. Just have to wait till afterwards and cut Vincent off after he grabs it. If we do it outside of town like we planned, Blackwater law don't even need to know. What about that agent you mentioned?”

"He’s not here in person, just in spirit. Seems like the bankers were threatened by the guy a few days back, couldn’t get the details though. What about the auction? It almost over?"

"I ain't even started. Strauss said Vincent’s waitin’ on the withdrawal. They don’t want to start the auction till the bank agrees- would be a disaster for them if those folks realized they were scammed before the money was released. Money’d never get out. Apparently, they sent some boy out to scope out what’s going on, they’re waiting for his word."

Karen started pacing. "Shit Arthur, that may be who I got into a tussle with. The boy saw me spying on Leads and Marvson and started to raise a fuss." The pacing continued. "But if we let him go now, he’ll rat me out. What about a note?"

"From the presumed messenger boy?"

"Yeah, we make him write one or we forge one- whatever’s easier. Then you give it to Strauss and everything goes forward?"

"I like that. Is there a clear path to the cellar for me?"

"Should be round back, I'll be your lookout." They slipped inside and found their man, gagged and sporting a bloody nose of his own.

The young man submitted instantaneously when he saw Arthur, and scrawled out the note with shaking hands. Arthur made him repeat his own words so the terrified man couldn't slip a hidden message into it and was vague enough that the scammers wouldn't be too put off if Strauss read it. The whole process took maybe five minutes and Arthur didn't even need to rough the guy up. With a nod to Karen he headed for the auction tent. Hosea rushed over and Arthur filled him in, and when Strauss joined them, Arthur stuffed the note into his hands with an even shorter recounting of events. 

Strauss rushed off and just a few minutes later, the auction started.

-

"$10,000 dollars to the man in the red!" Another hand shot up, one of those mole cousins Arthur had heard about it seemed. More hands and offers flew back and forth. "$14,500? Anyone else? No? Going, going, gone! Acornbell estate to the man in the red. Please come up to our table with your cash deposit and after a bit of paperwork, the deed is yours." 

The day dragged on in much this way, the moles prolonging each purchase, brightly dressed women hanging off some of the wealthy men. Vincent was talking unbelievably fast, presumably feeling tense at his slim window to collect the cash. With the delay and the slow going, it was almost suppertime and Arthur found himself getting antsy next to Hosea. 

When Charles appeared at their agreed upon location by the east side of the tent and waved to them, Arthur all but shot out of his seat- he was only supposed to check in if something was amiss in town.

“What’s wrong Charles?” Hosea asked in greeting, and the two joined Charles.

“Not necessarily wrong, just weird. The law was fine for a while, normal day. Until a man in a suit showed up with his own riders. Just three of them. Don’t know what the deal is, but the men looked well-armed,” Charles said. 

“Shit, where’d they go?” Arthur asked.

“Nowhere, they’re just put up in the sheriff’s office. Reported to Dutch too but he isn’t worried. But I don’t know, to me, it looked like those men mean business.”

Arthur’s scoffed, this job was really turning into a mess.

"Calm down Arthur, everything’ll be fine- we just need to wait it out. Vincent will want to get to the bank quickly after the auction. Charles, watch those men and if anything changes, let us know, especially if any of them head over to the bank.” Hosea said and Charles nodded, but before he could set off, Arthur cut in. 

“I think I know who they are. Karen was talkin’ ‘bout some fellow- federal agent type- threatening the bankers. They must be onto these scammers. Should we bail?" Arthur asked. 

Hosea considered a few moments before answering. “I say we carry on as planned, but with extra care. Sounds like it could be a trap, Vincent appears for the money and those men sweep in.” 

“I’ll try and listen in better but they’ve got a whole ring of law protecting them,” Charles said.

“It’s fine Charles, if they’re going to move, we’ll see it ahead of time. We see anything suspicious; we leave the money. Those men hit the bank; we leave. They have no reason to heckle us if we hang back, it’s the scammers who’ll go down,” Hosea said and they all nodded in consensus and Charles headed off. 

-

Arthur spent the rest of the evening going back and forth between the auction and the bank, ensuring nothing suspicious was afoot and that the bankers were still good and drunk. The bank guards were in a bit better condition, but they weren’t as alert as they ought to be.

Arthur kept expecting something else to go wrong but the night was still and only a couple odd lawmen walked past, on their usual routes. He eventually went back to the auction to sit down next to Hosea and after what felt like hours, a bell went off- the auction was over. A small crowd was still clumped around Strauss and the scammers, no doubt finalizing payments and paperwork. The moon was already climbing in the sky and Arthur was ready to be done with this job. 

"Let's head to the bank Arthur. We can tail them from there once the withdrawal is made. Charles hasn’t returned, so that may be good news. And you didn’t see anything either."

“Hopefully, could also mean he got himself caught,” Arthur replied. 

“That’s also a possibility, but I’d like to think he’s demonstrating caution. We have a few minutes to check in on him if we hurry. A very few though, let’s keep it short,” Hosea said. 

Before heading to the bank Arthur rode hard past the sheriff’s office, but couldn’t get a glimpse of Charles or the suited men in question. A quick stroll into the office itself under the guise of bounty hunting yielded nothing either, except a quick telling off by the head sheriff.

“Busy today mister, come back tomorrow. Or better yet next week,” the man said, annoyed and frantically looking through his desk for something. 

“What do you mean Sheriff, I’m here to work. Surely this town has something?”

“Not tonight it don’t, clear out or I’ll take you in for loitering.” Arthur put his arms up in defeat and after withdrawing from the office, all but sprinted to his horse. 

“They ain’t in there Hosea. Something’s goin’ down though, sheriff’s in a mood.”

“Let’s go easy Arthur, could be it’s all about something else.” Hosea didn’t spell it out but Arthur could hear the meaning behind his words- maybe it had to do with Dutch and the ferry job. 

They tried to focus on their own work though, and on that front, everything seemed to be going smoothly. From what Arthur saw through an external window, most of the bankers had either gone home or were sleeping away, even the vault guard were distracted and hazy. Vincent and his own force didn’t seem the embodiment of strength, but the bank guard himself didn’t stand a chance, inebriated as he was. After the sharp hit from behind, Arthur couldn’t tell if the guard was dead or just unconscious, but none of the other banking staff seemed any wiser. 

Vincent disappeared into the back room and returned shortly, large bag in hand. From the position of the cart pulled up around the back door of the bank, it appeared they’d been right, a flight to the north. Arthur mounted up and withdrew to a surrounding alley where Hosea was already waiting. Two of Vincent’s bodyguards and a couple scammers in suits- Arthur wasn't worried. For all his age and stature, Hosea was a good shot and they had the advantage of surprise. 

And for all the scoping they had done, there had been no sign of federal agents or anyone of the sort. Arthur was glad, but also refused to get too comfortable, they were somewhere in this damn city. 

Vincent was just pushing out of the bank's back door when the first explosion went off. Arthur whipped around at the sound as both of their horses spooked and screams broke out among the crowds filling the streets. More explosions went off, and Arthur was finally able to see the light from the fires illuminating the darkening sky. When Arthur tore his eyes back to the bank's exit, he saw Vincent had turned around and was sprinting back into the bank. All the men and the big bundle of money disappeared into the back room once again. 

"Goddamn. Hosea, that snake's hidin'" Arthur said, but the older man was still turned towards the smoke. "Hosea?"

"Arthur, we've got to go," Hosea said, finally facing him.

"What? We're just gonna leave Vincent in there, with all the money?"

"He's got a whole vault in there, he's not coming out anytime soon Arthur. We need to move. Now." Hosea kicked into his horse and Arthur could only follow his lead. He heard hoof beats in the distance, riders were coming their way, and a lot of them. Suddenly Arthur found himself face to face with none other than Micah Bell, guns in hand as the man barreled past. Arthur drew his own gun as Dutch, Javier, Sean, Mac and Davey skidded into view. 

"Dutch what-" Arthur was cut off as the men raced past.

This wasn't the route they were supposed to take and Charles still was nowhere in sight. Sure enough, the sound of horses from behind them was soon accompanied by a wall of law breaking out in front of the group. What madness had possessed the them to come this way? Their entire little force was now blocked in, horses panicked from the stray bullets and smoke. 

“Thing’s didn’t quite go as planned,” Dutch said in a clipped voice, calmer than this situation warranted. “Seemed like someone was expecting us.”

“Don’t make no sense Dutch, we were the only one’s to know,” Micah said from the side. 

“It don’t need to make sense, it’s time to get the hell out of here. Hosea, Arthur, you get your money at least?” It didn’t seem like the best time for a full explanation so Arthur just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, guilt at his failure and anger at Dutch sending Vincent running for the vault warring in his mind. 

The standoff came to a head, the sheriff’s voice booming about the crowd, “This is your first and last chance! Put your weapons down, there’s nowhere to go. Or die here like the crooks ya’ll are!” The man himself was trying to puff out his chest and look threatening, but standing behind his men and a post took away some of the impact of his words. 

“Think we’ll take our chances you pig!” Micah responded, first of the gang to fire into the crowd. It seemed to break everyone from their contemplative stupors though, bullets were now flying freely from both sides. Arthur himself shot two men before they could even draw their weapons. Mac and Javier found cover behind the odd parked wagon, but it was impossible to be completely covered from both sides. Some of the younger lawmen were hesitant in their fire, afraid of firing past the group and into their colleagues, but most didn’t seem to care in their eagerness to bring them down.

Arthur and Hosea shared a look as they steered their horses off from the main line of fire- this didn’t look good. Micah was still shouting, whipping his head back and forth and Arthur couldn’t help but be reminded of a cornered dog, lashing out. But he supposed that’s what they all were now, with the law closing in from every angle. 

Sean was the first to go down, his horse catching a blast to the face, then Davey's side was all but blown apart seconds later. He flailed around and cursed as he hit the ground, somehow alive. Miraculously the man wrestled himself to his feet and took off on foot, avoiding further bullet fire as he disappeared into the smoke. Arthur didn’t suppose he’d make it far. Sean could only look after the fleeing man, trapped under his horse as he was.

Another explosion went off, tearing through the officers on foot who’d been circling the gang. Arthur had no idea the source of the blast, but the resulting smoke and rubble offered some cover, visibility all but gone. 

“That’s our chance, let’s go!” Dutch yelled from atop his horse, gesturing madly. 

“But boss, shouldn’t we take them out first? So nobody follows?” Micah asked.

“There’s dozens of them! We are not doing that Mr. Bell, get in line,” Dutch said, a chill to his voice that Arthur recognized all too well. But there was no time to feel smug. Dutch grabbed The Count’s reins tightly and led the charge out, firing a few shots of his own as some of the unharmed lawmen rose from the rubble. Javier followed. Micah just stood there though, horse blocking the exit route to the rest of the group. His eyes were out of focus, hands twitching.

“What you say Morgan, me and you? We can take these men,” Micah wasn’t looking at him, but Arthur could make out the words. 

“Hosea, Arthur, Micah, Mac, get on through,” Dutch yelled over the commotion.

The blast had lit up the surrounding sheriff’s office and the remaining lawmen finally stumbled out from cover to escape the flames. Opposite from them were a good twenty more men, but the smoke made it hard to tell for sure. Arthur considered Micah. And then Hosea, Sean, and Mac, stuck back in the line of fire. He thought of the gang members still back at camp and the hell they were about to lead back to them.

"Okay then Bell," Arthur said, taking another man down as he considered the gap Dutch had fled through, smaller and smaller from the spreading blaze. 

"Arthur no, that's foolish," Hosea said.

"Right behind you, promise."

Hosea looked conflicted before reaching over to Arthur. Hand on his shoulder and eyes boring into his own. “Arthur, don’t you throw your life away alongside that maniac. Please. Also…” Hosea trailed off before leaning closer and lowering his voice, “Micah don’t look right, I wouldn’t trust him to have your back.” Arthur almost snorted at that; he wouldn’t trust Micah himself in any context. “Don’t die for nothing.”

Micah finally had deigned to move from his position, opening up the self-imposed blockade.

Arthur didn’t respond and Hosea gave him one last pat as he spurred himself forward. He almost made it through the gap, but Micah had stalled them too long and his horse’s foot must have brushed the flame because she spun to the side with a whiny, knocking into the side of the awning. A whole cascade of fire eaten planks crashed down, sealing the route closed. Arthur looked around wildly, trying to find another escape route for Sean and Mac, but the lawmen were closing in, the fire wall growing taller. There was no way a horse was making it through that alive, but behind him was a line of men, some of them in crisp black suits and red vests. Arthur could almost laugh. 

Micah was having fun at least, but the look of it. Arthur would try his best to get Mac, Sean out if nothing else, Hosea’s warning clouding his mind. He took another few men out, his gun dancing back and forth, and each time it passed over Micah’s form before him, part of his mind screamed out, told him to do it. That nobody would ever know, that the lawmen were the perfect cover and the man would never get to throw his weight around again. But he couldn’t, Micah was his ally and he could never betray Dutch like that, even as his gun sought to do just that. 

Arthur heard yelling from the other side of the inferno, both Hosea and Dutch this time, and made one final attempt to rush to the side. The shot was expected but didn't save him from the panic he felt as the shot gun blast ripped out Boadicea’s right leg, sending both horse and rider plunging to the ground. Arthur heard himself cry out. 

When Arthur’s eyes finally snapped open, he saw Mac on the ground beside him, rubble dusting his face and heard as Boadicea continued to scream and thrash beside him. More explosions and heat on his skin but the bullet fire waned. He was trying to make sense of the chaos, but his head hurt and he couldn't focus. Could hardly even see. Had he hit it on the way down? 

He looked around wildly, trying to see how much time Micah had bought for them, if the man was covering them at all. But he saw no trace of him, just more smoke and more angry strangers. Perhaps Micah had gone down too and both of them would be remembered by the gang, brothers in their sacrifice. Arthur didn’t much like the sound of that but he reckoned it didn’t much matter at this point. 

It sounded a bit like Mac was sobbing now, Arthur had forgotten he was there. He was pulled out of his daze abruptly as a rider rushed towards them, cringing back as he failed to find his gun, gone sometime during the fall. The fires were closing in as the form jumped off his horse and approached the pair. Mac reached out to it, a sobbing mess of blood and rubble. But when the Charles broke through the smoke cover and reached out with an anguished look on his face, it was to Arthur. 

He grabbed Arthur’s arm and hoisted him up, before dragging him over and helping him onto Taima’s back. His whole right sleeve was blackened, charred by the flames, his hand an angry red. A bag full of glass bottles with fuses clinked together on his belt. Mac was cursing now, screeching his hate onto both of them, then pleading, but it just washed over Arthur. Sean was still on the ground beneath his horse, not saying a word, just gazing up at him. Arthur tried to say something or reach out towards him, but he couldn’t manage more than a grunt. He could only hold onto the man ahead of him as they broke away from the flames and screaming. Bullet fire picked up again and followed them out. 

"Come on Arthur, I've got you."


	10. Epilogue: Flight to the Mountains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

The trip back to camp was a blur and Arthur felt himself slipping a couple times, only to startle awake just in time to catch himself. Even on a horse as large and accommodating as Taima, the ride was unsteady and when they got to camp, Arthur had to take a few seconds to collect himself on solid ground- a few seconds they didn’t have.

The whole camp was in an uproar, Susan barking orders out at a breakneck speed while hurling things into wagons, Uncle finally spurred into action. Even Jack was playing his part, carrying sacks of chicken feed almost his size to Pearson’s wagon. Arthur made a beeline for his own wagon and literally flung all his stuff in, no regard for damage. For all the work that needed to be done, the camp was ready within minutes, choosing to leave behind some of the cookware and furniture. They’d have chances to replace those, if they got out at all.

“Arthur, what’s happening?” said a scared voice. Jenny, appeared in front of him, her one small bag of belongings clutched in front of her.

“Law’s on us. We gotta get outta here.”

“Lenny’s not back though.”

“Shit, you’re right. Where’d he go?”

“I don’t know, he was just out is all. Somewhere in Blackwater.”

“Well we don’t have time, we can look after we’ve packed the wagons,” he said, impatiently bobbing on his heels. Jenny looked like she was going to argue but just nodded back to him and hurried off after a particularly loud shout from Susan.

And Arthur was off, helping John and Charles harness the horses to the wagons and load the bloody form of Davey into the rear of the ammunition wagon, bullets pushed aside to accommodate the still, bedraggled form. Arthur half listened to John’s babbling as they worked, but he couldn’t quite follow the animated story- just that John had been shot after getting separated from Micah and Javier. He was still upright though, so it couldn’t have been too bad. So far, no law had arrived but he couldn’t imagine they were far off with all the noise and dust they were throwing up.

Karen and Strauss both stumbled in together as the final touches were finished, the older man looking about ready to fall over. They met eyes and Arthur spared a moment to break the bad news to them- that not only was the gang preparing to flee, but all their efforts revolving around the scam were for nothing. Karen cursed but neither seemed as mad as Arthur expected, fear over the imminent departure clearly taking precedent.

They had just started moving the wagons out from their alcove when they next bit of bad news broke.

“Dutch!” Susan’s voice carried, booming louder than believable. Arthur whipped around to see the woman, skirt hiked and running through the dust on foot.

“What is it Mrs. Grimshaw? What’s wrong now?” Dutch asked, bending down from The Count, agitation mirroring her own.

“It’s Jenny, she’s gone!”

“What? No she isn’t, I just saw her as we were loading the wagons- probably in the back of one.” Dutch sounded like he was trying to convince himself, but the searching gaze across the wagon train betrayed his doubts.

“I know what I’m talking about Dutch Van der Lin, and I’m telling you, that foolish girl is nowhere to be found.”

“Well we can’t do anything for it, we’ve got a dozen other people here and ready to leave. We can send someone back after nightfall if we need to. Move them out!”

And they set off, the horses whipped into a near frenzy at the pace they were keeping. Arthur and Hosea atop his wagon, leading the rest, two lines of mounted gunmen covering the train from both sides. As the formation set forth across the prairie, the first wave of law popped up in the distance. Arthur couldn’t tell the number of men, but the dust cloud being kicked up around the force didn’t bode well.

-

The lawmen on their tails made good time, not needing to worry about wagons slowing them down, but the outlaws where ready and made good on their promises to protect the train. The party was able to manage a slow pace but the lead they had was gone. In the distance Arthur spotted a larger second wave splitting off at a fork in the road. The bulk of the men came directly towards them but a collection of men veering away towards a cluster of rocks. It took him a few seconds to recognize why.

A flash of figures, a man and a woman. Was that Lenny?

“Arthur, can you hear me?” Arthur was startled, vision snapping the Dutch. He could hear his heartbeat in his head- faster than it had any right to be.

“Dutch, there’s Lenny and Jenny-” Arthur responded, craning his neck to get a better look.

Dutch evidently saw the same thing and continued, “you’re right son, I need you to get them out.”

“Of course Dutch. Don’t gotta ask.” Arthur looked down at his wagon, then at the riders. “Only, my horse is gone.”

Another voice butted in, Charles. “Take Taima.” He didn’t wait for an answer, just rode up right next to them and elegantly made the hop from horse to wagon.

“But Charles…I… I can’t promise to bring her back, not with all them lawmen.”

“I trust you Arthur, I know you’ll both come back.”

Arthur wanted to knock some sense into him, demand how he could be so sure after watching Arthur send his own horse into an agonized and bloody death only minutes before, but no sound could escape. Instead, he took the reins and boosted himself over Taima’s back. He didn’t look back as he raced away from the rest, gunfire washing over him from all directions.

The ride through the prairie was surreal in its beauty, the grass swaying and glowing in the moonlight, but the screams broke through the picture, leaving Arthur filled with nothing but dread. He just tried to hold on and somehow make it through the cloud of gunfire in one piece.

As he approached the pack of lawmen from behind, he heard panicked yelling, Lenny calling out threats from behind his cover. At least five lawmen where closing in as Lenny continued to call out in a brittle voice. The man was scared, and Arthur didn’t care to hear it.

Arthur laid the first man into the dust, and then the second before any of them where any the wiser.

“Lenny, it’s me.”

“Arthur!” Lenny’s voice was even closer to breaking this time, relief and fear and anger all wrapped together. “I need help back here.” That didn’t sound good, the kid must be bleeding out back there, saying stuff like that.

The other three men had turned on Arthur and he felt a blast blow past his face. He spurred Taima forward in a desperate charge, waiting to feel the impact in either his own flesh or the horse’s but was able to reach the first man. In his surprise at Arthur’s suicidal move, the man was unable to get his gun up into position in time and Taima all but slammed into them. Both horses cried out but Taima with her size and strength won and kept her feet.

Arthur tried to spin around in time to deal with the other two men to his side, but dual gunshots rang out before he could even come close, both him and Taima still dazed from the crash. No searing pain lit his body though and when he finally managed to turn to the men, they were already crashing to the ground.

Lenny and Jenny were both propped up against one another, up against the rock, guns in front of them. Both were covered in blood, gallons of blood by the look of it.

After landing a final bullet of his own in the still moaning man and surveying the area for more and coming up empty, Arthur rushed over to the pair, ready to catch anyone setting to fall. But when Jenny did, it was into Lenny’s arms, not his own.

“She’s hit Arthur,” is all Lenny could say out before he’s swayed too. Arthur tried to call the other men’s horses over but the ones who aren’t long gone are panicked and kicking. So Arthur compromised, tugging Taima forward and urging Lenny up.

“I’m not leavin’ her Arthur, not for anything.”

“Not askin’ you to Lenny. Here, I’m passin’ her up.” Both were installed on the horse, Arthur on the ground. Could she really take all of their weight or should he send them all forward without him? Arthur considered- staying behind would be suicide.

“Scoot back, sorry horse.” Arthur somehow hefted himself up onto the horse in front of the two smaller folks. It’s wasn’t comfortable and Lenny was now much too far back, but they were technically up. Lenny was shaking and clutching Jenny and Arthur still didn’t know if all that blood was coming from just Jenny. They took off, slower than Arthur liked but faster than was wise. Despite Lenny’s cradling of the woman between them, Arthur didn’t feel even the slightest stirring at his back.

“Shit Lenny, hold onto me our you’re both goin’ right off the back,” Arthur shouted as they continued their rough journey back to the train. As they approached Arthur could see the battle continued. Screams and gunfire filled the air, at least one of the gang’s horse’s dead on the ground and a solitary wagon abandoned a ways back. But they were winning.

“Arthur! You got them!” Dutch yelled out and Arthur hurried to jump off Taima and draw his own gun. But he wasn’t needed as Bill took out the last lawman with his shotgun, adding the man into the carnage beneath them. For the first time in what felt like hours, silence filled the night. Arthur couldn't see any of the federal agents among them though, just ordinary lawmen. And then a pleading voice broke out. Lenny, still up on Taima, clinging to Jenny’s limp form before him.

-

The wagons made good time after that, not stopping for more than a couple water breaks until well into the next day. Tension was high and their scouts had mentioned finding evidence of men tracking them. Smoke of a cook fire, rustling from a bush, hoof beats in the distance. It was hard to say what was paranoia and what should be taken seriously, but Arthur had no doubt the agents were onto them in some capacity. Jenny hadn’t said a word. Neither had Lenny. And Davey, while he still breathed, would likely never utter another. Micah, on the other hand, didn’t seem to stop talking, but Arthur hadn’t heard a word of the chatter, all of it fading away without meaning.

He was still atop Taima, Charles not feeling confident to give her the proper care with his hand so severely burned. But Arthur rode alongside him, Hosea, and Dutch while subtlety keeping an eye on John. They had no money, left behind as it was, but Arthur was relieved. His little family, torn but together, as they journeyed up into the endless snow.

-

“Arthur, any luck?”

“Found a place we could get some shelter. Let Davey rest as he…you know. An old mining town, abandoned, it ain’t too far. Come on.”


End file.
